Star Trek: The Pioneers
by Shadowfang3000
Summary: Follow the adventures of Captain Lestrade and his crew aboard the USS Pioneer, a Nebula-Class vessel stationed at the early reaches of the Delta Quadrant. Featuring cameos of the TNG, DS9 and Voyager crews! May raise to M due to references to drugs, child abuse and suicide! D:
1. A Couple of notes

**Star Trek: Pioneers**

(A/N) I LIVE, YET MORALE IS AT "SHATTERED" LEVEL

*Ahem* Anyway, I've been a Star Wars fan for pretty much my entire life. However, around 4 months ago I decided to give Star Trek a chance... I've never been so torn in my life :

Recently I thought up of my own little Star Trek crew on board the "USS Pioneer", a Nebula-Class ship stationed at the early reaches of the Delta Quadrant. I later discovered that the Pioneer was in fact already a popular fan series, much to my chagrin, so I'd like to stress that this is NOT the USS Pioneer of Travis Cannons doing D:

**A brief overview of our crew:**

Captain: **Wallace Lestrade** (Human, Male, English (Surrey))  
A depressing past shrouds this man with a constant shadow. A glaring difference between he and other Captains like Picard is that he hasn't suppressed his memories, rather he lets them take control. Gladly ignoring the Prime Directive when he wishes, and putting the needs of his Crew ahead of his own, he barely has a grasp on his Captain seat under the judgemental glare of Starfleet. Few know of his past, save for rumours of sexual abuse at the hands of his own father...

First Officer: **Frank Drake** (Human, Male, Australian (Perth))

What could be said about Number One? He's charming, social, and polite at all times. But for reasons he doesn't understand, his Captain despises him. Drake grew up idolising the adventures of his Captain, and jumped for joy when he finally got to take a seat at his side. A skilled tactician, pilot and brawler, Drake is always ready to assist a friend in need, or even a complete stranger.

Second Officer: **Antheia Valdez** (Human, Female, Portuguese (Lisbon))  
A theme has always followed the Valdez line: Every single first child will become an officer on a Starfleet vessel. True, Antheia's older brother became a minor officer of the famous Enterpise-D, but she instead became the second officer of the Pioneer. A master tactician and always at a serene calm, many rely on this Jack of all Trades for any situation. It's safe to say that of the entire crew, Valdez is the most steadfast and devoted.

Chief Medical Officer: **Arthur Chadwick **(Human, Male, English (Cheshire))  
A life as the personal doctor of a wealthy Businessman shows just how skilled Chadwick is. Raised in a boring village close to Cheshire in the West Country, Chadwick has a bland calm that trails him at all times. Even the Captain admits that being near him instantly sedates him, be it his terrible jokes or his accent. So much so, it seems Chadwick is the only officer Lestrade has any hint of a friendship with.

Chief Engineer: **Pierre du Fontaine** (Human, Male, French (Bordeaux))  
What is it about Coastal life that can change a man? Raised near the waves of Bordeaux from the cradle, Pierre has been in top physical and mental strength since he was 9 years old. Smoothly going through education with straight A's across the board, he could be seen as a master of nearly all trades. However, he then got into the drug Valhadrium. His scores plummeted when he entered the Academy, and he barely scraped a pass into the Enterprise-D as an Ensign. Following the Delta Quadrant incident and the recovery operation of the Pioneer, he was posted for repairs on the main bridge. Here he proved his worth to Lestrade, who at the permission of Picard, took him as his own Chief Engineer.

Helmsman: **Thomas Gould** (Human, Male, Scottish (Inverness))  
A rusty rookie from Starfleet, Gould failed his entrance exam to the Academy three times. Never the less, his devotion to success and pride in his family name eventually spurred him forward, and he passed his entrance exam into the Academy. Graduating at a low rank due to the start of the Dominion War, he was hastily thrown into the Pioneer, after its previous Helmsman was assimilated during the Delta Quadrant incident. Naive and innocent, Gould has made good friends with most of the crew, save for the Captain of course...

Security Officer:** Ko'Pei** (Vulcan, Female)  
Born on Vulcan, Ko'Pei always had an interest in the way of the Samurai. Constantly following her father on Starfleet vessels, she learnt much about the Japanese Culture and ways. She also mastered the use of the Naginata, the Nodachi and the Yumi during her youth alone. Following the footsteps of her father, the hardworking yet eternally stoic Vulcan joined the Pioneer as its Security Chief, apparently handpicked by Lestrade himself.

Counselor:** Adonis** (Vorta, Male)  
With the Dominion War well underway, I think we can all believe that no one would trust a Vorta. These polite but dastardly commanders of the Jem'Hadaar are known for just how "trustworthy" they are. Alas, Adonis was one of a small splinter group from the Domion who transferred tactical data to Starfleet during the Battle of Deep Space 9. The small cargo ship he was on was destroyed during the battle, but luckily he was recovered from the wreckage by the Pioneer. He has since been posted as the unofficial Ship Counselor by Valdez, much to Captain Lestrades chagrin

(A/N): Images of the crew are available on my Deviantart account, Shadowfang3000. Just search Pioneer :P


	2. Welcome to the Family!

**Star Trek: Pioneers**

(A/N) So here's episode one!

Today, we find Captain Lestrade awaiting his Officers, meeting his crew and departing for the Delta Quadrant!

**Welcome to the Family:**

Lestrade wasn't having a very good day. Maybe it was because of the rash these uniforms gave him? Maybe it was because this coffee tastes like the urine of a Breen mixed with a bunch of hairy cabbages? Or maybe it was because he was in a stuffy, grey, miserable meeting room at Deep Space 117 on the Delta Quadrant border, discussing what he thought was a Baseball game with a bunch of happy-go-lucky American Captains. He rubbed his scarred eye and took another sip of the filth in his cup: He hated this whole "One World Government" baloney. "Equal power for all"? More like "Let us yanks take over your countries with words alone!".

"So, what about you Wallace?" A man with a thick Texan accent said smiling, kicking Lestrade out of his dream faster than a Kangaroo on a pogo-stick. Improvise, Wallace, improvise!

"What about me? Well, heh, what is there about me? I guess I became a Captain because I wanted to see the Universe?" He said, his best attempt of a smile looking like something you'd see on a male model on one of those fragrance adverts. The Texan scowled, eyebrows raised.

"We were talking about opinions on our crews, Lestrade." Another Captain did their best to hide a snigger, although it came off like a combination of a cough, a sneeze and a burp. To say the truth, Lestrade knew little about his crew. Save for the daughter of the famous Admiral Valdez being his Second Officer, and his Security Chief being a Vulcan he had handpicked from the Academy, his crew had been assigned by Starfleet. He'd hate to go on a mission with a bunch of cloth-eared tosspots, so introductions would be necessary. Happy that he had an excuse to leave this meeting, Lestrade downed the foul mud labelled as "Coffee", and legged it out of the office much to the Texans confusion.

"So what, is he from Canada or something?"

X

It took a good 2 hours for Lestrade to find his new ship, partially due to the strange location of the Dockyard and partially due to his horrific navigation skills: He was a Tactician, not a Navigator! He could leave that to his Second. The Dockyard was similar to the office he was in earlier: Just the same military grey decking the walls and floor. The layout was simply hundreds of long corridors branching off from one longer one, with Ships docked at their sides. It reminded Lestrade of hundreds of E's on top of each-other. Lestrade found his ship on Corridor 2323, and after manoeuvring past a Ferengi trying to scam him out of his shoes, found the Transporter hardlinked to his craft.

Hardlinking was a basic method of Transporter control, which forced it into a single location. This way, someone could simply walk on, give the command and be sent to their destination without anyone else operating the device. Before stepping onto the Transporter Pad, a sickly green emanating from it, Lestrade stared out of the window to see his latest command: The USS Pioneer.

The ship was of the Nebula-Class: A large Dish with engines strapped to its bottom and a large assortment of sensors and weaponry at its top. He'd never commanded a vessel of this size before, having Captained a series of smaller vessels in his younger years. For some strange reason, all of them had exploded or been disabled by Romulan craft when he commanded them. Bad luck I suppose? Scoffing at such superstition, Lestrade hopped onto the Transporter Pad, straightened his uniform and called to be beamed up.

X

Lestrade was greeted by a rather round man upon appearing aboard his vessel. With a greasy mop of brown hair settled on his head, this man barely managed to peep over the transport console. With a red face and a big grin, he cheerfully greeted.

"Captain! It's an honour to meet you. I'm Seth Strauss, your Chief Engineer!" Lestrade recognised the name... That's right, he was the man who owed him that coffee during a game of Death Dice in the Officer Wing! Words couldn't explain how much he hated this kiss-ass git, but he had to make good impressions!: After all, as Chief Engineer he'll be festering in the Engineering Decks 24/7, never to bother him 'less the ship was about to explode due to the fat sod dropping a Choco-Nut bar into the Warp Core.

"Indeed, a pleasure. Lieutenant, has anyone else boarded the ship yet?" The Captain continued, slowly tiptoeing to the exit whilst maintaining eye-contact like a man trying to avoid a horny lion. With that kiss-ass grin still plastered onto his face, Strauss replied:  
"Lieutenant Commander Valdez and Lieutenant Ko'Pei are at the bridge sir, and if I am correct Commander Chadwick..." before he could finish, another man appeared in the Transporter. Clad in Medical blue, with short ginger hair, stubble of a desk worker and glasses almost as thick as Strauss himself, Lestrade's Chief Medical Officer Arthur Chadwick stepped off of the platform. Lestrade hoped that this man actually earned his pips via hard work rather then licking boots.

"I take it you're the Captain?" Chadwick sighed, before slipping past Strauss and staring right into his new CO's eyes. Lestrade didn't know whether to feel flattered or insulted by this action, and decided to demonstrate both. The result resembled the passing of a kidney stone by someone with severe constipation issues, much to Chadwick's worry:

"Sir, do you need a trip to the Sick Bay? We haven't even left the station yet." Before Strauss could offer to escort him there, practically acting like a dog being offered a bone, Lestrade pulled Chadwick by the collar out of the Transport Room and got set to finding his way to his bridge.

X

Dear god, more grey corridors? This place resembles Coventry during new year! Gritting his teeth and marching on, Chadwick felt it was time to intervene.

"I couldn't help notice, but so far you've knocked down three containers and slapped an Ensign in the face for leaving his shoe-laces untied. Are you angry at all sir?" Lestrade felt like nutting the ginger doctor, but decided that he'd had enough blood for tonight. Calmly changing from a hunched beast to a calm and collected Captain, he stepped into a turbolift with Chadwick in tow. The doors sealed with a hiss.

"Bridge... Let me get this straight, Doctor: I am the Commanding Officer of this vessel, yet I've seen better spaceships in a packet of Wheaty-Flakes. The crew I've seen so far amount to a kiss-ass Engineer, a witty Doctor and Ensigns that seem to believe 'Hypo-Spray' is the latest sugar free sweet for the joyful children of Deep Space bloody Nine! I've been commissioned by the highest authority to patrol the edge of a war zone with this pathetic rabble. To make things worse, the USS Voyager has gone missing, and with it half of my transfers. I am severely undermanned, and what I have is laughable! This is like trying to build a LEGO Big Ben, only to find half the pieces are missing and a large goblin is nibbling at your toes whilst shoving the pieces up his nose! So to answer you question, Doctor, YES, I am VERY ANGRY." The hum of the lift filled the awkward and empty silence that followed, until Chadwick decided to have the last line.

"... Sir, have you heard of the modern theory being researched in Taiwan claiming the men can have menopauses?" Lestrade pulled a face that could make a mother of 4 run for the blankets as he released another wave of rage.

"YOU FILTHY WAN-" The doors burst open with a relieved sigh, as the lift reached the bridge. Nameless faces glanced at the lift with little interest, still busy at their stations. The Doctor led Lestrade onto the bridge by the hand, before taking his place in the turbolift once more.

"Remember to take plenty of fluids, it's a natural thing Captain!" He smirked, before the lift doors closed and sent him crashing down to Sickbay. Lestrade groaned, rubbing the back of his neck: He was worse than mother.

X

"Ah, Captain, it's a pleasure to ser-" A tall woman, bearing short black hair and well-tanned skin stood up from a chair to the right of the seat he would be calling his. Before she could utter another word, Lestrade raised a hand to halt her.

"No need, Commander, I've gotten enough of that today" He did his best to pull a friendly smile, but it resembled a grimace if anything else. Still standing tall and neatly, the woman motioned towards the Captains chair, allowing Lestrade to sit before taking her own seat. She was Antheia Valdez, Second Officer and the daughter of the richest Portugeese Admiral ever to travel the stars. She certainly looked the part, looking more handsome then beautiful: Definitely someone to have at your side in a crisis. Lestrade leant towards her, adjusting to try and find comfort on the rock hard chair.

"Antheia Valdez, I am Wallace Lestrade, and it will be much more of an honour for ME to command the daughter of a legend." Valdez winked, looking straight into his eyes.

"I hope I can measure to your expectations, sir." Lestrade chuckled to this, although it did sound extremely forced.

"Nonsense. Anyway, let's get to business: Are we all accounted for?" Valdez locked eyes with a Vulcan near the turbolift door: Had she been there all this time? Pale and stoic of expression, the Vulcan pulled out a pad.

"Captain, we have currently checked in CEO Seth Strauss, CMO Arthur Chadwick, 2O Antheia Valdez, and I, COS Ko'Pei. However, XO Francis Drake has yet to check in. Permission to speak out of turn sir, but may I inquire why you hand-picked me for this assignment?" Ko'Pei spoke quickly and monotonously, sounding more dull then a magazine in the Waiting Room of an STD Clinic. Lestrade closed his eyes and extended an arm to a point at Ko'Pei's direction, forcing Valdez to practically leap and tumble from her seat to avoid being slapped across the face.

"Because Ko'Pei, I want someone who works with pure logic to take control of my ships security, and with a trained warrior and tactician like you, who could skip the offer?" He was referring to the 'Pei family's famed adoration of the Samurai way. Apparently following First Contact, the 'Pei family landed in rural Japan, and began research into the history of its people. Ever since, they have been following the way of the Samurai, and the path of a peacekeeper.

"I see sir, thank you sir." The Vulcan threw her hands behind her back and in uniform fashion marched back to her place next to the turbolift to observe the bridge, like an Uncle watching over his nephew and niece in the playground and trying his damndest not to get aroused. With the crew now hard at work, Lestrade felt relaxed for the first time in hours. His Chief Engineer and Medical Officers were total tits, but at least his Second Officer and Security Chief knew their place, and what they were doing. His rash was starting to calm down too! With an ecstatic sigh, he stood up and strolled to his Ready Room.

"Valdez, keep it up, I'll be assessing my Ready Room. Give me a ring if that Francis Drake character shows up". With an exchange of nods, Lestrade sealed his door, dimmed the lights and stared out of the viewscreen, to see the lines of cruisers that would soon be travelling to the far reaches of the Universe, exploring strange new worlds and integrating new civilisations into Starfleet. He pondered the Texans question from back at the Captains Meeting: "What about you"?

Really, what was he about? What was he doing here? Why did he join Starfleet? Was it friends? Was it... Father? With a twitch at the thought, Lestrade adjusted a lamp on his desk, before sneaking another look out of his viewscreen.

All of those ships, all of those people. Laughing, crying, smiling, frowning... Who would think that in a few months from now, all them would be gone?

"Captain, our First Officer has arrived, and it seems he's got Chadwick in tow." Valdez communicated, kicking Lestrade out of his philosophical moment: Why did that keep happening to him?

"I'm coming, thank you" Lestrade stared at the lamp he had been fiddling with- Where it SHOULD have been. He glanced to the left to see it shattered and in pieces, lightly coated with blood. It was his own. With a groan, he slipped on a pair of gloves and marched out.

X

"It's just a hypospray! Trust me, if I was trying to kill you I would've smashed your head into the damned console!"Chadwick growled, polishing his glasses as a tall man rose from the ground a few metres from him.

"Bollocks to that, you've probably got some crazy nerve gas in there!" A distinct Australian accent rumbled from the man, brown haired, blue eyed and bearing a well cut beard. Lestrade happened to make eye-contact with the lad, which was probably a mistake.

"Captain, you've got my back haven't you? Surely you hate this git going around giving you surgery for a blocked nose!?" 3 pips and an empty ring: This was Francis Drake, Lestrades First Officer and second in command of this vessel. Lestrade had had enough for one day, pointing an accusing finger that would put a doped up Lawyer to shame, he aimed directly at Ko'Pei, who stood at attention at the exact same moment.

"Ko'Pei, take them to the Conference Room and deal with it. If they get rowdy, aim your phaser at the ceiling above their heads, that should work." The Vulcan nodded, as if to say "God bless you, sir".

"Valdez, get us prepped for our launch at 1200, I'll be in my Ready Room taking a nap for this damned headache." As Ko'Pei pushed Drake and Chadwick along, the Doctor managed to throw what appeared to me a packet of tablets at the Captains feet. He gave a thumbs up as he was wrestled into the Conference Room.

"I read up on your condition! Take one every 6 hours for the next week, they should stop the cramps!"

X

_Captains Log, Stardate 56849.1 _

_The USS Pioneers maiden voyage begins in a few hours, despite severe crew shortages that seem to be plaguing Space Stations 109 through 130. My crew seems to be an interesting bunch, I'll give you that. However, despite initial troubles I am certain things will even out during our voyage to the early reaches of the Delta Quadrant. As for the USS Voyager, updates have been dry for more than a week now. I am certain the frigate is safe in the hands of my fellow officer Captain Janeway, but it is worrisome that the ship has entirely disappeared from charted space. I will continue updating my intelligence on it's situation via my personal log._

_X_

__(A/N) THAT WAS A BUGGER TO WRITE!

Well, we've started with utter crack going on, but I assure you that things will be getting a lot more dark in the following chapters :

Worry not!: We'll still have our comedy episodes from time to time, but until then, stay tuned for part 2, **"Out in a Punch"!**


	3. Out in a Punch, Part I

**Star Trek: Pioneers**

(A/N) The continuation, episode two!

Today, the Pioneer reaches it's destination at the Delta Quadrant border. But a threat lies in wait, something that outmatches the undermanned Nebula-Class!

**Out in a Punch Part I:**

_Captains Log, Stardate 56849.4 _

_Our journey to the Delta Quadrant is nearing it's conclusion, and I must say that as hard as the start was, camaraderie and friendship has already bloomed. In just a few minutes time, I am scheduled for a routine check-up with Commander Arthur Chadwick, who I am certain will be a great asset as a friend, as well as a skilled doctor. Nevertheless, we are still horrifically undermanned: Engineering is down to barely 10 men, and as for the bridge? We are so lacking in basic crew members that I have commissioned First Officer Francis Drake to take the helm. I am honoured to find such an exceptional pilot at my steering wheel._

X

Lestrade scoffed as he ceased recording his log. He had always been quite a private man, on a social and emotional level. After all, if Starfleet knew of the true situation on board his ship, the sanctions would be severe. Whipping off his gloves, he took a moment to measure the extent of his wounds: His hand was still bleeding. For some reason a scab was refusing to arrive, like a lazy office worker hiding under his covers to ponder his eventual suicide. Did he really want to do this? Did he really want to go out and talk to that doctor again?

"Sod it." Lestrade grumbled, as he heaved himself off his deskchair and left the Ready Room.

X

The first thing Lestrade saw entering the Sick Bay didn't surprise him: No Medical personnel were present save for Chadwick himself. What did surprise him was that Chadwick was laying on an Operating Table, fiddling with a Hypo-Spray. Lestrade took this moment to reconsider his decision for the fifth time, and marched off to the exit.

"Hold it, Captain." Chadwick mumbled drowsily. Lestrade turned to see that the doctor had managed to stand up and appear right behind him faster then Roadrunner with a pound of sherbet. Before Lestrade could even scream, Chadwick had dragged him over to a table and taken out a packed-lunch box. The box possessed an image of Hank Handsome, the famous mascot for Chomp-Chomp Low Sugar Happy Bars, which for some strange reason sold millions to self-loathing housewives during their initial release, despite being aimed at children aged three to twelve.

"Don't worry sir, I didn't put a sandwich in with my Butcher knives, heh." Chadwick mumbled, still in a sleepy state. Lestrade attempted to fight back, but the doctors grip was firmer then a male weight-lifters buttocks. Lestrade closed his eyes firmly, before hearing a warm breath at his ear: "Failed."

Lestrade opened his eyes to see Chadwick had backed off, and was now calmly working on his hand. More confused then a cat staring at its reflection, Lestrade grabbed the doctor by the scruff of his collar.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT, COMMANDER!?" Chadwick made an expression combining guilt and smugness, fiddling with his glasses as he balanced on his tip toes to reach the Captains towering height.

"Gee, I should've told you: I've been doing more research into your condition, and I was certain that your reaction to a situation of peril would indicate the stage of your menstrual cycle." Lestrade felt an urge to go to the airlock and flush this git out, but he held back.

"... I... Look... Don't do that again, alright?" He was surprised to see that his hand had cleared up. He didn't even feel Chadwicks work. Was this part of the Doctors plan? Chadwick grinned, and went back to his desk to file some papers.

"Congratulations sir, you've made it through your first time! I'd shake your hand, but you don't know where I've been. Now get back on that bridge, they need you." Lestrade couldn't help but feel honoured at this point. As he walked towards the door, he pondered if the way the Doctor had been acting up to this point was all a ruse. Maybe he was like him? Lestrade had always hid behind a wall of politeness, despite himself being a bitter and anti-social man. Perhaps the Doctor instead hid a calculating and intelligent mind behind the shell of a total moron?

"And Captain." Lestrade turned to meet Chadwick staring into his eyes.

"... If you feel like breaking another lamp, come talk to me." The doctor said this in a monotone, suprisingly business manner. Lestrade nodded, understanding what the mysterious man meant, and set off for the bridge.

X

Ko'Pei was confused, something that rarely befalls her kind. As Head of Security on board a seriously undermanned craft of such size, she had been scanning the immediate perimeter of the Pioneer every two minutes for the best part of 12 hours. However, between scan number

324 and 325 out of the total 360 radial scans, there was a blip: Activity had been detected. However, all view-screens turned out blank upon investigation, NOTHING was there. This was a bad omen the Vulcans knew all too well, as she pondered the possibilities. Assuming that whatever had been detected possessed knowledge and sentience, it was likely that they were trying to move out of the ships sensors. It was just as logical to assume that they were testing the ships sensor range for tactical data. This concerned Ko'Pei: The USS Pioneer was of a new generation of Nebula-Class Starships, a project entirely unknown to the Federations foes. Hell, to say the truth only a special few in Starfleet probably knew of its existence. Yet again running on this evidence, who would be potential suspects for this blip? The Borg? The Dominion? Or something worse?

… Well, it could've been that, or maybe it was a chunk of space junk from a centuries old alien cruiser. Stoic to the very end, Ko'Pei did what she thought was logical, and reported to the nearest superior officer.

"Commander Drake?" She asked, leaning over her console to shake the man's shoulder. With an eager and charismatic grin, he leapt from his seat and twisted around.

"Yes Lieutenant?" Ko'Pei was the type who kept to herself, but even she had to admit: Never before had she seen such a cocky and naïve boy take such an important seat upon a Federation vessel. Shaking off this thought, she shared her information. Drake sighed, hands on his hips.

"It makes sense, we're practically on the Delta Quadrant border. What range would they be at considering our sensors Lieutenant?" For the first time ever, the Australian Commander looked business worthy. Before Ko'Pei could respond, the entire craft shook as if hit by a humongous asteroid. Valdez gripped her chair, Drake crouched to the ground, and Ko'Pei braced against her console as the shockwaves slammed against the ships hull.

"Best guess, right next to us Number One!" Valdez yelled.

X

"Strauss! Strauss!" Lestrade growled at Engineering, pushing past various stunned Engineers and crew members. The short man was tapping away at consoles whilst directing his underlings with new orders. With another rumble across the deck, the Captain leapt for the same console his Chief Engineer stationed. A look of contained panic filled Strauss's eyes, as he quickly glanced at Lestrade then back to his buttons.

"Captain! Something tells me we've collided with something, and it's big!" Lestrade forced a laugh, looking around to further survey the chaos on his vessel.

"We've got hull breaches on Decks 3 through to 7, and communications to those Decks have been cut. As for things here?" Another rumble, and with more screams and tears as bodies slammed against the deck.

"Absolutely dandy!" Straus finished. Lestrade nodded his head, and ran for the exit, confusing the Chief.

"Where are you going sir?" Strauss asked quickly, as if begging for him to stay. Lestrade pointed at the man, standing straight amongst the crowd.

"I've got a ship to command haven't I? Direct only the seriously wounded to Sick Bay, I want you to use any means necessary to keep the Pioneer kicking. Give 'em hell, Strauss, show me what you can do." As soon as the last word escaped his lips, Lestrade ran with all of his might.

X

"Valdez, what have we got?" Drake asked, practically kicking an Ensign off his pilot seat as he took the helm for himself.

"Reports from Missile Tube Cam One make it obvious Commander: We've got a Borg Cube on our hands. It's sensors must've been out, since they're trying their damn well finest to dislodge themselves from our hull." Valdez still spoke calmly, taking the Captains chair and assuming Tactician role until her Captain arrived.

"All we can do is hold for now Number One. Every wiggle they do sends another shockwave throughout the ship, and according to Ko'Pei they'll need at least twenty more shakes to get out of a hull this thick." With a sigh, Drake leant back until it hit him.

"How did they breach the shielding? We've got shielding on this thing haven't we?" If she could blush, Ko'Pei would've had a face redder then a Baboons arse upon hearing this. Stepping back from her console, she stood at attention.

"I granted permission to Engineering to cut off shielding for the next five hours and direct additional power to systems in need."

"I THINK SHIELDS ARE A SYSTEM IN NEED!" Drake roared, like a Lion restrained by a line of stakes. An explosion sounded, sending Ko'Pei rolling down the floor to Drakes feet. Valdez jumped from her chair, her usually smiling face showing a powerful sense of concern. And perhaps a little bit of fear...

"What on Io was that?" Drake mumbled, pulling the Security Chief to her feet. Valdez put a hand to her neck, revealing a sweaty, shaking palm.

"It wasn't a shockwave, and it wasn't the Bridge obviously. It must be Engineering..."

X

With the lights offline, and the feeling of a cold liquid at his feet, Strauss felt like giving up there and then to join the chorus of screaming Engineers on their hands and knees around him. He couldn't, he _wouldn't._

"EVERYONE, GATHER ANYONE WHO CAN'T WALK AND GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, I'M SEALING US OFF!" Strauss couldn't see what he was typing, but years of experience had helped him master the layout of an Engineering Console from a Galaxy-Class to an Intrepid-Class vessel.

CLICK,CLACK,CLICK,CLACK

The screaming certainly began to sound organised, if that was possible, as men and women clawed their way out of Engineering like dying beasts. The liquid was now at his waist: It must've been from the Engines. If they were leaking at this volume, the entire ship would blow at any second. _No, it can't!_

With no concern for those still rolling and crying, unable to get their selves to safety, Strauss waded through rubble, fuel and debris to one of the fuselage pipes, having set the blast door to Engineering to close seconds prior. He swept his hand through the darkness and liquid, feeling a strong jet of current. _There, that must be the broken fuel-line._

Ripping off some sort of metal sheet from the obscured remains of what could've been a Chuck Chocolate Chunks Bar Vending Machine, Strauss placed it careful on the pipe. However, as he turned to run for the closing blast door, he found that the liquid wouldn't stop coming: The current was too strong, and was pushing the metal sheet away. With a roll of his eyes, he pushed against the pipe, the liquid suddenly stopping its rise at his shoulders.

It was then that another shockwave shook the ship. It was then that a spark was generated by the friction of the metal sheet and the pipe. It was then that the fuselage was set alight. It was then that Gregory Strauss, Chief Engineer of the USS Pioneer, died.

X

"You call that a wound? Get out of my Sick Bay now boy! You and you, you've just become Nurses, congratulations for your sudden promotion or demotion, now get these wounded arranged for me. And if another one comes in with a bloody dislocated arm, tell them to go slam it in a door and get back to their stations. Hustle!" Chadwick growled as he scanned a thrashing Engineer. She was quite a beautiful girl, tearful eyes a bright blue with hair brown and smooth. Her hands were charred beyond belief by the fuselage explosion a few decks down. He would've preferred to give this woman some Hypo-Spray to kill the pain and get her back to work, but she was suffering from a severe case of shock. Shivering and whimpering, at this rate her heart would over-exert itself and stop at its tracks. Another dose? No, she was still trashing.

"It's alright, you're safe now. Come on, you're doing your pretty eyes in dear." Chadwick smiled, that maniacal facade of total calmness still evident. She shook her head, eyes widening, and then she began to scream. Violent, floor-shaking screams that conveyed both pain and emotion.

Within two minutes, she was dead. Chadwick casually laid her body with the five others that had died under his care in the last thirty minutes, and called for his next patient.

Five lives entrusted to him. Five families he had just failed.

"Ha! I've seen bigger wounds during a school scuffle! Clean it up yourself and then you could do a job for me..."

X

Lestrade had finally made it to his Bridge, in reasonable condition despite a couple of trips and falls.

"Captain on dec-" Ko'Pei called, before being stopped by her angry leader.

"Stow it for a novel, report." Valdez, having regain her smile, gave her leader an update.

"The shockwaves were caused by a Borg Cube, sir. It's dislodged itself from our dorsal structure and is ready to make a pass at out front. Thankfully the Pioneer is a new model of Federation craft, and it'll take them several minutes to scan our weaponry accurately." Lestrade shook his head, stepping towards his view-screen.  
"No, they already have their data. They crashed into our side to stop us from returning fire during their scans: By hitting our blind side, they managed to get in range without opening their selves to harm, clever tossers!" He turned to his Security Chief, who with a nod went for the Proton Torpedos.

"Fire at their centre with a full scale barrage, put as much pressure on their main weapon systems as you can. Valdez, take Drake and start the homing beacons on the Escape Pods for the same spot." Lestrade gestured at his Second Officer, and took the seat she had been occupying.

"Sir? Shouldn't I take command for tha-" Drake spoke back, but with a glare from his Captain he shrivelled back, joined his fellow Commander and entered the turbolift.

"Is communication still cut off between Bridge and Engineering Ko'Pei?" Lestrade asked, his palm resting against his crinkled face. Still unaffected by the events that had transpired in the past hour, Ko'Pei replied.

"Communication hasn't only ceased Captain. According to Commander Chadwick, the entirety of Engineering has been destroyed. Wounded stationed there report that Chief Engineer Strauss did all he could to seal a fuselage breach, but was caught in a resulting explosion." Lestrade was surprised: He thought that the geezer was a total coward, but he had followed commands and held his ground... He had followed HIS commands to the death. A foul feeling gripped his chest: If he was there, could he have saved him?

X

It was a simple yet brilliant idea, Valdez thought: By setting the Escape Pod homing beacons at the Borg Cubes co-ordinates, they could effectively be turned from vessels of sanctuary to lethal explosives. With a direct collision, fuel would splatter all over the cube, which would then be set alight by additional collisions: Every single hit would add even more damage and spread. Suddenly Drake spoke up, having been occupied with charting the co-ordinates.

"Antheia, are these screens live?" He asked, scratching at his chin.  
"Of course, how else would you chart a target?" Valdez questioned, leaning over the man's shoulder: As tall as she was, Drake was certainly bigger then her.

"Then where has the Cube gone?" Drake tapped his Communicator hastily.

"Sir, are you seeing this?" He questioned, knowing the answer.

"Of course I can!" The Captain replied angrily, shuffling and typing audible in the background.

"Why would they be running from a battle they're winning?" Valdez queried, squinting at the screen in confusion.

"They're not running, Commander. They're finding a safe-distance for what's about to happen..." Lestrade said, his voice still forcibly firm.

X

(A/N) THINGS 'BOUT TO GET UGLY!

Well, that's a good way to start your journey isn't it? XD  
Meet us next time with Part II, where with a ship on the verge of exploding, the crew are forced to fix their craft with a ticking clock, and a couple of familiar faces come to join the commotion!


	4. Out in a Punch, Part II

**Star Trek: Pioneers**

(A/N) The continuation of the continuation, part II of episode two!

Today, following the deaths of numerous personnel on the heavily damaged Pioneer, Lestrade scrambles to organise his demoralised and panicked crew aboard a rapidly degenerating ship. Even he cannot pull this off, without another to assist...

**Out in a Punch Part II:**

_Captains Log, Stardate 56849.5_

_Our journey to the Delta Quadrant has met a disturbing turn. Following our arrival at the edge of charted space, we were met with an ambush by Borg Syndicate forces. After a brief yet substantial skirmish, the Borg backed off in apparent full retreat, however I theorise something much worse: With the detonation of Engineering, and the death of several personnel, including Chief Engineer Gregory Strauss, I believe they are clearing a potential blast zone. With communications haywire, and Commanding Officers divided in pockets across the vessel, hope seems to be far from our gra-  
X  
_With a spark and a series of clicks, the mic exploded in Lestrades face. Jumping back to dodge the sheering hot flames, he groaned.

"Well, I think Comms are completely out now." Despite directing his words at no one in particular, Ko'Pei took it into her own hands to agree.

"Indeed sir. If what you predict is correct, I recommend that the first course of action is to secure the remains of the Engineering deck. With knowledge that there is no risk of sudden combustion there, we can plot our next objective." The Vulcan marched for the turbo-lift before he could even reply.

"... Nothing better to do. Staker: Hold helm and come with me." Lestrade motioned the Helmsman, who after punching a few codes into his console, jogged to join his Captain and Security Chief in the turbo-lift.

"Let's hope that Cube doesn't decide to close the distance."

X

The turbo-lift decided to stop a tad bit early of Engineering, malfunctioning and leaving a small gap for the trio to squeeze through. Lestrade growled: He was a Captain, not a gymnast! As if to mock his troubles the young Vulcan and Helmsman rolled through in a matter of seconds. He swore he felt his spine snap when he hauled himself through. The corridors of the Pioneer were eerily quiet, likely owing to the large amount of casualties the ship had sustained. Sick Bay was at least 3 levels below, and logic dictated that most of the remaining crew would've holed up there with Chadwick.

"This way, sir." Staker called, having moved a few metres ahead of his Captain and Security Chief. Following the young man's footsteps, the unlikely trio formed a column as they marched on towards the Engineering blast-door. Ko'Pei flipped open her tricorder and quickly relayed detailed information concerning what lay ahead.

"Scans show that Engineering is still flooding. Burns on the inside of the blast door suggest that the explosion in Engineering earlier was caused by a larger quantity of fuel from the main fuselage. The sudden combustion managed to remove a large quantity of liquid, and has resulted in fuel being at ankle height. I suggest we leave our phasers here to prevent accidental detonations." Lestrade swore that the Vulcan didn't even blink as she listed the data, and following her example Staker set his phaser on the floor. Lestrade gulped, cracked his sore neck and spoke to his ship.

"Override, Captain Lestrade, Crew Number 000, Codeword Iscariot." With that, the blast doors painfully heaved theirselves open, revealing the charred remains of Engineering. With Staker yet again taking point, stretching his muscular legs over debris and burnt body parts, they hunted for numerous breaches in the engines.

"There's one. Staker, use that collapsed girder to force it shut. Ko'Pei, help him." Lestrade motioned to a breach close to the Engineers balcony. He searched through the corpses as the Vulcan and Helmsman tugged on the metal mass. He wanted to find Strauss, he _needed_ to find Strauss. He promised himself that he'd apologise to the man, and thank him for saving so many. Heaving the body of a short round man, his face burnt beyond recognition, he sighed: He'd saved more crew than the Captain. What sort of Captain couldn't save his own people?

"WATCH I-GACK!" Staker croaked. Lestrade swivelled around to see the man with a robotic hand grasping at his throat. He followed the hand to its arm, then to its body, then to its face: It was a Borg. Somehow this Borg had climbed onto the balcony fencing, and had the Helmsman tight in his hands. Wires extended from his wrist, exploring the body of the young man. Staker stared right into the eyes of this soulless minion, veins popping as his neck was snapped.

"KO'PEI!" Lestrade called, hauling himself through the thick fuel to try and reach his Security Chief. She was having none of it, quickly sprinting to the balcony before tackling the Borg and dead crewman off the walkway. With a splash, the Borg landed in the fully flooded bowels of the Engines. Victorious over the abomination, the Vulcan turned around to meet the stare of her distraught Captain, her arms folded casually.

"He must have been on the exterior of the Borg Cube as it was lodged into the Pioneer. I theorise that he made his way through a breach in the lower decks, then swam to get here." Lestrade peered over the balcony to see the floating corpse of Staker. In a rare display of pity, Ko'Pei grabbed her Captains hand.

"Don't mourn one death, Captain. Utilise it to prevent others." With a nod, she got back to work. Lestrade gripped his palm: Her touch was so cold.

X

"Valdez to Ko'Pei, Drake has left for the Bridge to take the helm and comm: It's hard to tell from the view here at the Shuttlebay, but there appears to be another ship coming towards us from the Stern... Valdez to Ko'Pei?" Valdez repeated into her commbadge, with nothing but static returning from the Chief's end.

"Merda!" She growled, placing her palm on her forehead. She had never felt so useless before, despite an entire life dedicated to the lesson "Learn from your mistakes". Maybe it was concern? Ever since coming aboard the Pioneer, she had felt a strange vibe of rage deeper than shouts of anger from her Captain. Perhaps it was fear? Captain Lestrade was well known for his... Unique.. Approach to the table of politics, as well as his appreciation for pre-Federation Royal Navy tactics. Returning to a ruptured panel with her Hyperspanner, she pondered once more:  
Perhaps it was pity?

X  
It would've taken Drake 5 minutes to reach the Bridge under normal circumstances. But judging from the fact that the power was mostly out save for core systems, many turbo-lifts were broken, and a good few had corpses lodged in the doors, he saw fit to travel via the Jefferies Tubes. Even then it'd take most men around an hour, but the energetic Australian managed in a good 45 minutes. Poking his head out of the Tube a few corridors away from the bridge, he rolled out, dusted off his uniform and casually strode to the main deck.

One thing struck him as odd. Well, multiple things to be honest, but he decided to group everything into one to save him the thinking time: The bridge was on fire. Not the type of fire you'd see in a war-flick, but certainly dangerous. With a couple of leaps, he cleared a few stretches of flame and reach the main communications panel behind the Captains Chair. Despite damage to internal comms, it seemed that external was still fully operational, and a hail was being processed. Sniping the soot coated "accept" button with a powerful index finger, a face stretched onto the Viewscreen.

"I am Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise, we have come to assist." The firm voice of Starfleets most famous Captain rumbled the entire bridge, or perhaps that was just in Drakes imagination? He had read much about the famous Picard during his late days in the Academy, and always idolised the wisdom of the man. Knowing that Lestrade would likely prefer to drown himself in a cup of Raktajino, a drink he found as foul as a newborn child, than accept his help, Drake saw to it to accept responsibility for the crew and save everyone's skin.

"Captain Picard, it's an honour. I am Commander Francis Drake of the USS Pioneer. We've come under ambush by a Borg Cube, it somehow managed to sneak up on us. It's falling back, but our ship is heavily damaged: We request assistance in Engineering and Medical." Drake made sure to stand straight, and look confidently into the eyes of the Captain: He wanted to make a good impression after all. Picard leant to his left, engaging in a brief exchange with an extremely pale yellow-eyed man. He then looked over his shoulder and nodded to two others, a Klingon and a bearded human, who both returned the nods and jogged to their turbo-lift.

"I'm sending over my First Officer, Chief Medical Officer and Security Chief with a detachment of Ensigns to assist you. We'll transport any moveable wounded to the Enterprise for further treatment. Incidentally, are you sure about that Borg Cube? It seems from our perspective that the Borg Cube is flying towards you." Picard inquired, composed and seemingly at ease. Raising an eyebrow, Drake dared to minimise his communication and glance out of the viewscreen. The Cube was still far away and still, it wasn't moving. A panel across from him popped and sizzled, sparking a brain-wave:

"The viewscreen has been frozen!" With eyes widened, he sprinted away from the bridge and back for the Jefferies Tube: The Borg had pulled back knowing full well that the crew would be able to eventually quell the risk of a Reactor Breach. They were simply waiting for them to do the hard work so they could return for another pass, deducting that the damaged Viewscreen would be the least of their priorities.

"Captain Picard! Throw all that you can at the Cube, we can NOT let it get into firing range!" He managed to yell before exiting: He had to get back to Valdez, it was up to he and her.

X

Thirty-Eight... Thirty-Nine... Forty! With his seventh scowl in the last three minutes, Chadwick shoved another corpse off his operating table and continued his work. After so many deaths, you really stopped caring about what happened to the corpses and left them to the Nurses. That last patients loss annoyed him: A Bajoran Medical Officer, Reevas Arnold was his name. He didn't know much about the kid, truthfully he couldn't even tell if he was Bajoran with so much of his face charred off, but he was Medical, and he needed some help here. Yet again, it was experience that made him distance himself, that allowed him to look into those tearful eyes and smile, knowing full well that they would die, and caring little about that truth. He could've used a Raktajino right now...

"Arthur, someone just beamed in." Medical Officer Herschel mumbled, tossing the bloodied handkerchief made by his Hessian mother to his Chief to wipe his own stained hands with. Chadwick liked Herschel, a veteran from Dresden hurtling towards 40, with a chip on his shoulder and one hell of a good trivial knowledge. If he had to make a choice, he'd gladly give away his entire staff to have three of him at his side. Running his hand through the cloth, he handed it back to the cynical German.

"Let's hope they're Medical, and they've brought me a bloody drink!" Herschel chuckled, placing a warm and rough hand on his leaders shoulder.

"And look on the bright side: If they're Borg, they'll shut all these screaming kids up." Chadwick grinned and went back to his table, hearing the man mutter "Sheisse..." under his breath before shoving another corpse to the ground: He was tough, but he wouldn't last forever. Suddenly, the doors groaned open, revealing a tall ginger woman surrounded by the type of guys you'd see in Health Insurance Ads.

"Crusher, Beverly, introductions later." She said casually, waltzing in as if she owned the place. The sweating, smelly, tired and bloodied Chadwick and Herschel were pushed aside as these fresh-faced arrivals brought their equipment to bare. Herschel leant against a wall and closed his eyes:

"Damned kids..."

X

Lestrade and Ko'Pei were pretty confused to find an Engineer suddenly standing next to them. They were even more confused when several more appeared and began replacing their hard DIY work with actual professional equipment. Lestrade scoffed, glaring at the first man he saw.

"Oi, who in the buggery are you and what are you doing on-?" The Engineer turned around and got to work on a console. Lestrade twitched, swinging his head over the mans shoulder.

"Hold it! Kid!... Lad!? … TOSSER!?" That one got his attention, as he swung around and came face-to-face with the rotten Captain.

"We're from the Enterprise? Didn't you call us to begin repairs on the ship?" The man spoke in an obviously French accent, but certainly spoke English fluently. Lestrade folded his arms, shaking his head. The Frenchman raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you Commander Drake?" The mere mention of the man's name stopped the Captain in his tracks, as did the quick grapple from Ko'Pei stopping him from ripping off the Engineers head and beating him to death with it. The Frenchman sighed and got back to work.

"Je m'appelle Pierre du Fontaine, nice to meet you. Now excuse me, I'm busy." Lestrade was actually impressed by the man's work. Walking out of the now drained and dry Engineering, he noted that the entire deck was already in a much better condition.

"-Pei...Pei...Transmi-Task-...Garb... Shut-Shut-ut-ut-ut-ut...Bay! -Dez-Bay!" Ko'Pei's commbadge sizzled, the concerned voice of Valdez garbled by interference.

"I recommend we rendezvous at the Shuttlebay, Captain: It appears the majority of Command is now present there. Hopefully we can repair Communications and contact the Enterprise" The Vulcan stated, taking point. Lestrade looked back, seeing Fontaine still hard at work.

"Never thought I'd feel respect for a Frenchman..."

X

Valdez was already on it before Drake reached her, shook her by the shoulders and shouted a garble of words. With the Cube charging right towards them, they had only one shot: There were but a few of the Escape Pods left, but they were the last offensive option. The Enterprise would certainly destroy the Cube eventually, but who knows if it would be in firing range by then? It was now or never, they needed everything they could throw at them. The issue, of course, was that these pods were Entry Pods: They were designed with strong fronts to prevent detonations as a result of crashing. But with the Captain out of contact, it was up to her and her superior officer to protect the Pioneer... Well, what remained of it anyway. Pod number 153! Bursting out of the ships side, it gracefully flew forward and slammed directly at the Cubes centre. As if in response, the Enterprise focused its Phasers on the patch of fuel created by the Pod, searing a large burn mark in the massive shape. Pod 840! At the same speed, it clipped of the Cubes side and spun off into the void of space. Pod 297! With the seared front of the Cube now sporting a small hole, the Pod nestled itself inside the craft. At this angle, the Enterpise had no clear shot to detonate it and destroy the Cube. Thinking alike, Valdez and Drake both reached for the release of Pod 117, remembering to leave its thrusters off. With a pathetic whimper, the Pod popped out of the ship and floated in the void that crossed between Fire and a Hot Place. The Escape Pods hulls were all coated in a reflective solution, designed to allow the Pod to travel close to Stars with less damage from their rays. It seems the Enterprise too knew this, skilfully angling a shot to bounce off the Pod and in through the breach. The brief silence was beautiful, before a chain-reaction occurred and the entire Cube burst into pieces. Valdez would've hugged Drake if he wasn't her Superior Officer.

"I guess we haven't got a Borg Cube anymore, just hundreds of Borg Pyramids and Triangles!" Drake laughed. Valdez would've slapped him if he wasn't her Superior Officer, but after all of this action she just needed an excuse to laugh.

As forced as it was, it was probably the happiest laugh she'd had in years.

X

_Captains Log, Stardate 56849.6_

_With the daring rescue from Captain Jean-Luc Picard and the USS Enterprise, the Pioneer has been saved. A brotherhood between our crews is evident, as men and women work together to repair our craft and get it back into action. A birds wing may be crippled, but with care it can fly once more. In a few hours Command will be given back to me by my close friend Jean-Luc, and we shall part ways once again._

X

Lestrade scoffed, slipping past a couple of Enterprise Engineers and noting the reliable Fontaine still hard at work on the Bridge. The Ready Room opened to reveal Captain Picard standing at ease, ready to receive him. The doors slid shut slowly, as if nervous over what was about to happen.

"Lock." Lestrade mumbled, shuffling past Picard and making sure not to make eye-contact as he went for his Teapot: He was never a fan of Replicator Meals, he thought the way they were designed to be entirely perfect and healthy took away the joy of eating or drinking something tasty. That, and last time he had Green Tea from a Replicator, he was certain he got Earl Grey with green-dye in it. _Earl Grey, huh? _Jean-Luc remained silent, and Lestrade took a seat at his desk.

You see, the two certainly knew eachother. They attended the same Academy, same classes, same meetings. But they never actually talked to each other, learnt of each other or befriend one-another. Something about the other just put them off, a foul feeling that the other was plotting something. Picard moved towards the sofa at the side of the room, aimed to look out of the window. Crossing his legs, he turned his head and stared at Lestrade. Lestrade snuck a look every few minutes hoping that Picard would have given up, but he was still staring intensely, as if looking into his soul. Finally, he gave up.

"So then, _Jean" _He growled, pronouncing it like the trousers knowing full well that it'd annoy him. Picard flinched, as if he didn't even know Lestrade was there.

"Ah, there you are Captain _Hargreave_! I thought you'd gone brain-dead!" Lestrade slammed his desk as he rose, his Tea struggling to stay in its cup. _How did he know his real last name_? _He told NO-ONE his last name! _Picard stood up, walked towards him and rested his palms on the desk.

"Wallace, talk to me." He said blandly. Twitching but calming down, Lestrade folded his arms and looked away.

"Want to know something Jean? Ever since I've been on this ship, it seems none of my commands have done a damn thing. Calling you? The winning stategy that saved the ship? That was all thanks to the quick thinking of my Officers, not me. So far, I've done nothing but moan and fail to protect my crew. Do you know how it feels? Knowing that the best way to help is to do nothing?" Lestrade spun back and looked deep into Picards eyes. He slowly moved around the desk, his hand running along its side, and stood next to Lestrade.

"Wallace. I know. Sometimes, a Captain needs to sit back and let others work it out. Like a parent and their child, you must sometimes leave them to their own devices... Didn't a great man once say that trying at all makes you a winner?" Lestrade briefly maintained eye contact, before turning back and staring out of the window again.

"I'm pretty certain the git who said that was a General who later died a worthless death." He scoffed. Picard raised a hand, but reconsidered. Shrugging his shoulders, he walked to the door.

"Jean-Luc..." Lestrade said, his voice softer then it had ever been before. Picard looked over his shoulder.

"I wanted to... P-Pierre du Fontaine... He's a good man, I'm certain... May I..?" Picard couldn't tell if he had quickly changed the subject, but he nodded.

"He's certainly got potential, and I've heard about what happened to Strauss. I'll inform him, I take it you want him to be your new Chief of Engineering?" Lestrade gave a small twitch of his head, barely registering as a nod.

"Open." Lestrade said, regaining his composure. The door unlocked and Picard left without any further words. The doors pulled shut, and Lestrade sunk to his knees, placing a hand on his mouth and a hand on his stomach.

"Hargreave..."

X

Herschel and Chadwick certainly agreed that the "Mess Hall" deserved its name, hopping and rolling under broken wreckage and a few Engineers who were unfortunate enough to get in their way. Eventually they reached the Jackpot: The last working Replicator on board. The two exchanged glances, and with a flurry of rock-paper-scissors-lizard-spock games, Chadwick vocalised his order.

"Tea. Raktajino. Warm." The Replicator sizzled, ejected a can of "Cilos Ciller Cola", and burst into two equal pieces.

"Machine Out of Order, please wait for assistance." The dull Computer stated. Herschel chuckled as Chadwick adjusted his glasses.

"Story of my life." His quote was punctuated by the can ricocheting off an Engineers head and splattering on a nearby desk.

(A/N):Well BUGGER, that took a while! :P

With that, more questions arise! Why did Lestrade change his name from Hargreave? Why do Lestrade and Picard hate eachother? What potential does Fontaine have? And where the hell is Chadwicks Raktajino!?

Join us again in Episode 4, **"It's my first day"**! Where Drake, Valdez and Ko'Pei lead a ground assault on a Dominion held outpost!


	5. The Tabula Rasa, Part I

**Star Trek: Pioneers**

(A/N) Episode 3! :D

Today, Valdez, Drake and Ko'Pei lead a group of Commandos in combat against a Jem'Hadaar encampment on Sierra Two-Five, a Federation planet.

WARNING: A bit of blood and a bit of swearing! D:

**The Tabula Rasa, Part 1:**

_Captains Log, Stardate 58051.2_

_The Pioneer has been called back from patrol duties to respond to an apparent stealth invasion of a Federation Outpost, Sierra Two-Five. This information hasn't been confirmed yet, but we must be as cautious as possible. With that in mind, members of my crew shall lead a scan of the planet, and hopefully find nothing. If we do... It may just be the beginning...  
X_

Herschel looked the young man up: He had his number, he was nothing compared to him. In the past few games, this poor kid had lost more than three days of Replicator rations. True, some would call it bullying, but it was the boys fault in the first place. He slammed down a card: Ace of Clubs!

"SNAP!" Herschel roared, the blond boy recoiling and sobbing invisible tears.

"Darn it! You win again, sir..." Herschel raised his hand to receive approval, which was hastily responded to by a high-five from Chadwick. Chadwick had to admit: This kid was bad... BAD. Herschel was partially colour blind, and had the reaction time of a horny Mountain Goat. But as bad as this kid was, he had spirit: He kept going confidently, despite all of these failures. His name was Thomas Gould, a fresh-face from the Academy who was replacing Staker as the ships Helmsman. Staker was a git in Chadwicks eyes, so he was happy to have someone else. Hell, Herman Goering would've been better than Staker! True, he was an insane transvestite Nazi, but at least he had a concept of fun. Stakers idea of "Fun" was collecting _stamp__s_.

Another replacement, Pierre du Fontaine, and the ships Security Chief Ko'Pei walked over. The Mess Hall was empty, save for a few lone crewmen reading or eating, so it was likely they came for conversation. Fontaine leant on a nearby table to watch the game whilst digging into a Tuna sandwich, while Ko'Pei actually took a seat a few metres away. Facing away, she pulled out a book that seemed to bare a large eyed couple surrounded by hearts on the front, and began reading backwards. Her dull soup slowly going cold, Fontaine pointed out something.

"... You do know he's looking at his cards before he puts them down, right mon ami?" Fontaine asked, taking another bite. Herschel widened his eyes, but with eyes like his they still looked like they were squinting. Ko'Pei swung around, grabbed Herschel by the arm and pulled him away.

"Cheating is entirely against the ways of Starfleet, Albert Herschel. I have the right to press punishments: Five laps around the Shuttlebay." The two left, Herschel silently begging for help. Fontaine took his seat and rearranged the cards.

"Thank you, sir." Gould said, his faint Scottish accent showing on the "You". Fontaine smirked, and handed out a card from the newly shuffled deck.

"Let me show you how to play a real game, la garcon jeune." As the duo commenced their game, Chadwick took a chance to read the book Ko'Pei had been reading.

"... 'Girl-Meet-Boy, KissuXKissu?'" Possessing neither the bravery nor idiocy to open it, he assumed that she read it for the story and got back to watching the card game between the two new arrivals, and two new allies.

"So... How you holdin' up Gould?" Chadwick asked, eyes closed and arms folded. Gould was caught by surprise, being asked a question from one of the ships most senior staff. He slammed down a Four of Hearts, winning the game, and stood at attention.

"S-Sir! Well sir, well!" Fontaine cradled his face in disappointment, and a sigh emerged from the Doctors throat.

"Yup... Wallace won't like someone this smiley..."

X

Ko'Pei had dropped Herschel off at the Shuttlebay when she got a message from the Captain, requesting her presence in his Ready Room. The cheeky German managed to snake away and slither down the corridor when her eyes were otherwise engaged. But, like a good Vulcan, she expressed no distaste obeying orders:

"He's just getting an extra rest for a full 10 laps." She thought, before slipping into a turbolift with none other but two superior officers. As Chief of Security, Ko'Pei was the unofficial Third Officer on board, now stood with Second Officer Valdez and First Officer Drake. They had previously been having a rather interesting conversation about Jehm'Adorr Slug Races, but her appearance had apparently killed the topic. The silence was likely awkward for the two humans, but for Ko'Pei it was entirely normal. Not wanting her superiors to feel bad, she spoke up.

"Worry not, sir, ma'am: You may continue your debate, I'll be readi-" Drat, she'd left her book at the Mess Hall again. More silence, before Drake suddenly started humming.

"There's nothing liiike... Australia... There's nothin-" Valdez glared at him, and he creased.

"... … God, is this thing even moving?" As if to answer her, the doors opened at the Bridge and the trio slowly squeezed their selves through the doorway. In single-file by rank, they entered the Ready Room where Lestrade sat, Tea in his hand and an extremely large book on his desk. And when I say large, I'm talking the type of thing they used to swat stray Pterodactyls. The book bared the title "How to deal with your Social Anxiety", with a little smiley-sticker on it's side claiming it was "100% Chadwick Approved!". Lestrade stood up, his desk making a dull clunk as he set down his mug. His Officers stood at attention, ready to follow his will.  
"No, don't do that. At ease... Except for you Drake." Valdez suddenly slouched, while Ko'Pei simply folded her arms.

"Bugger..." Drake whispered. Not hearing his remark, Lestrade pulled out a mission directive and read off it. None of his usually anger or depression was evident in his voice, in fact, he sounded blander than a packet of "Iceland Super Big Surprise Dip".

"Usual Hazard-Team stuff: Point-insertion from a plateau, ambush, cheer, back in time for tea.". Staring dully into Ko'Pei's eyes, he handed over the Mission Directive. It detailed reports of a rumoured Jem'Hadaar stealth insertion on the Federation planet Sierra Two-Five, and fears that they planned to mount further operations from there.

"Assemble an additional 6 men, Commander: We don't want to make ourselves look like fools again, hmm?" Referring back to the embarrassing disaster a few weeks ago at the Delta Quadrant Border, Valdez stepped in.

"Captain, you know you can count on us." Smiling softly, she grabbed Ko'Pei and Drake (Who seemed to be doing a Bobby impression) by the arms and pulled them out. The doors shut, and with the firm click of it locking, Lestrade sighed.

"... That's what I'm afraid of, lass..."

X

Following a mouth-watering browse of the Pioneers Armoury selection, the group emerged armed and dangerous. All stood with Compression Rifles, Phasers, and even Ablative Armour... Except Ko'Pei, that is.

"Forgive me for asking, sir, but what's with that knife on a stick? Looks like something you'd use to nab at rats behind a desk." Corporal Raleigh asked, prompting a few giggles from the squad. A burly Glaswegian with a well known dislike of cowards, and an equally well known respect for heroes, he was among Ko'Pei's first choices. Blinking, she spun this "Stick" with the grace of a Samurai, before holding it outstretched.

"It is a Naginata, Corporal Raleigh, a weapon used by the great Samurai of Japan long before my people discovered you." Raleigh scratched his nose, swinging his rifle over his shoulder.

"Still, how can you use that against a screaming Jem'Hadaar firing lasers from his ey-" A knife suddenly flew past, barely an inch away from his neck.

"It's modified, if that answers your question." Ko'Pei dropped the now headless weapon to her side, walking past a frozen Raleigh to rip its blade off the wall "A weapon's effect is not determined by anything apart from the user." She continued sagely. Raleigh shook it off, and marched to her side. With her team together save for one, she led the way to the Transporter Room.

X  
"Okay." Herschel muttered, cracking his knuckles. Drake was certainly surprised, Valdez not so much, yet Ko'Pei stoic as ever nodded her head. She would need someone with medical skills beyond first-aid, and Herschel was one of the best she knew who still under-ranked her.

"You agree. In exchange of your 10 lap run, you shall accompany my squadron?" Herschel grinned in the smart-arse manner you'd see a smoker grin.

"Look on the bright side: If I get beaten to death by an angry scale-man, at least I'll get a good nap." Acknowledging this but showing no visible signs of it, Ko'Pei, Drake, Valdez, Herschel, Raleigh and the four other Commandos positioned their selves in the Transporter. The plan was simple: Beam in on the plateau overlooking the outpost, dispatch of the guards from there, hopefully negotiate the Jem'Hadaar's departure, then secure the area.

"Sally forth..." Raleigh muttered as they faded away.

X

The first thing that confused Sergeant Stephen Grove was that he couldn't feel his arms. The second was that he couldn't feel his legs. With only his head mobile, he asserted that he was on his back. But why? Rocking his cranium back and forth in a pathetic attempt to swing it around and survey his surroundings, he noticed a plateau high above him, red beams of energy emerging periodically. Continuing his roll, he noticed that to the bottom of the plateau sat a figure. He was certain that he recognised the hairy hands of the man, but thanks to him possessing no head, he couldn't pinpoint who it was exactly.

"Supressive fire, pull back to the treeline!" A woman called, a couple of yells following. With all his might he managed to crack his neck upwards and look at his body... It certainly looked a lot more crumpled then before, and his legs resembled a fancy straw you'd get at a birthday party. He also realised the hole that was going through his chest. Ah, he remembered now: He'd been shot. With the rush of realisation hitting him like a lorry, he began to whimper and shake.

"Drake! Pull back, we're out gunned!" That medical German shouted. The determined Australian shouted back.

"I'm not leaving him! He's moving, can't you see?" Yes! Listen to him you stupid Kraut! Grove was certain that he'd be whisked to safety, and soon enough a tall bearded man appeared over-head, blocking out the exchange of reds and blues between the two parties.

"Hold on, kiddo, I'm getting you out." Drake grabbed him by the shoulder, Herschel running out to help.

"You're lucky you've got the pips over me, Commander." He applied a hypo-spray to Grove's neck, calming him. "Shock, burns, snapped bones. This'll take a while to work on." Another volley of lasers slammed the ground barely inches from the trio.

"Commander Drake, abandon him and fall back to the evacuation point: We cannot risk your loss." Ko'Pei stated, grabbing the Aussie by the arm and firing at the gunmen on the plateau with a small Type-1 Phaser. Drake pushed her back with his elbow, heaving Grove.

"Bollocks, we're nearly there!" More fire erupted from the right of the plateau, Jem'Hadaar reinforcements no doubt.

"Frank!" Valdez yell from afar, assisting a limping Raleigh. "Get moving!"

"NO!" A uncharacteristically irritated Drake roared. Herschel backed for cover as another bolt brushed his hip, leaving the First Officer to drag the now motionless body of Grove.

"He's dead, panic gave him a heart attack Commander. We need to run!" Herschel shouted, leaving him be and shuffling past a Bajoran Commando who suddenly got plastered by a shot to the skull, collapsing in a heap instantly. Under cover-fire from Raleigh and Valdez, Herschel made it to the temporary shelter of the evac point. Ko'Pei still held Drake by the arm, tugging at him like a child to their mother.

"Commander Drake, you are acting without logic. Sergeant Grove is beyond resuscitation, thus saving him is now out of the question." She pulled him to the ground and covered her head, narrowly avoiding another potshot.

"He's not dead, Ko'Pei, he's not dead!" He screamed, punching the corpses chest and forcing a light twitch of the eyes.

"You give me no choice: I deem you unfit for duty." To punctuate this, she held tightly onto his neck. A moment passed, before Drake collapsed onto her shoulder. Holding his ragdoll body up, she began a hopping run. "Pioneer, six to beam up!" She shouted, the group fading away as the Jem'Hadaar made their final push.

X

"Peters, take Raleigh to Sickbay for m-" Before she finished, Ko'Pei spotted Lestrade standing in the Transporter Room next to Transporter Chief Tobias. Stepping off the pad to greet him, Lestrade suddenly turned and exited the room. Peters and Raleigh slowly limped away with Herschel in hot pursuit, as Drake came to.

"... You... Tart..." Drake muttered lowly, glaring at the Security Chief's back. Not registering this, she marched towards the doors.

"Senior Officers of the Sierra-Two Five Insertion, in my Ready Room." The trios Commbadges droned. Drake scoffed, and with the help of Valdez, rose to his feet.

X

"Valdez, take the Bridge for me, this will take a while" Lestrade said blankly. Hiding her relief, she left without a word. The sound of the door must of echoed, the tension of the room thick enough to dice with a blade.

"... I can't believe this..." Lestrade muttered, flopping onto his deskchair and looking up at the two Officers standing straight and stoic in front of him.

"Ko'Pei, what exactly happened?" Lestrade demanded, hostility evident in his voice as he reach for his mug. Ko'Pei looked up, avoiding eye-contact.

"It was likely that there was a transporter error of such, or a field of energy preventing us from beaming to our insertion point. It appeared upon arrival that we were at the bottom of the plateau, barely a mile from the outpost and with Jem'Hadaar Snipers already positioned high above. We took two casualties instantly, Lance Corporal Sultan and Sergeant Groves." Drake mumbled something, making Lestrades targeting eyes dart towards him.  
"Excuse me, _Number One_?" Lestrade firmly asked, his nerves seemingly at breaking point.

"He _wasn't_ dead! We could've saved hi-" Lestrade slammed his tea on his desk quickly, a small crack appearing on the side of the traditional mug.

"Something you should've _learnt_ by now is that I don't exactly stick to the happy-go-lucky heroes club when it comes to tactical decision, Number One. To risk all of your lives to save a single crippled one is foolish." Drake raised a finger to protest but was quickly silenced by Lestrade.

"Continue." Ko'Pei quickly looked away, and carried on.

"With no approach apparent to us, I sounded the call to retreat, to which Valdez, Raleigh, Peters and Armi took heed. However, Medical Officer Herschel stayed behind with the First Officer in an attempt to pull the dying man to safety. I eventually intervened, Private Armi losing his life in the process, and eventually resorted to a nerve pinch." Drake groaned, rubbing his neck. Lestrade heaved himself from his desk, and manoeuvred himself around it.

"I will deal with you in a moment." Lestrade glanced at the Vulcan, who replied with total motionlessness. He paced towards Drake quickly, standing nose-to-nose with the already fairly tall man.

"I don't have the luxury of executing you for high treason like my 'barbaric' forefathers of the British Empire. I need you, as a First Officer and a man I can trust. I need every single man and woman on this ship in order to achieve the wishes of Starfleet, the Federation, and the _people_ that we strive to protect and nourish. I want you to know how very deeply you have disappointed me today, Frank. I want you to know how you've _disgusted_ me. I had begun to trust you, as an Officer and possibly even a friend. Make it be known that if you do something like that once more, and ignore my will, you will no longer be an Officer aboard this vessel..." A scowl emerged on Drake's face, staring back before slowly nodding

"_Get out_." Lestrade muttered. Drake, after staring for a bit longer, backed away. Before leaving, he turned his head at the door.

"Friend... _Bullshite_." Finally he left, like a foul mannered child denied a sweet at the corner shop. Lestrade sighed, backing up to lean on his desk. Glancing at his shoes, he spoke to no one in particular.

"I don't even know where to start with you." Ko'Pei still stood motionless, feeling that it was not yet her turn to speak.

"Ko'Pei, do you know what you could get for that? For assaulting a Superior Officer?" Lestrade sounded much more open and emotional to her, be it a blessing or a curse.

"I did what I deemed right for the situation. As Chief of Security aboard this ship, it is my duty to look out for all of its crew, and find the best solution to save the most lives. It was the logical move to save First Officer Drake, and everyone else present." Lestrade laughed dryly reaching back for his mug and slipping past Ko'Pei to sit at his sofa, looking out of the viewscreen.

"Logic... Always the excuse of Vulcans. I always strive to act with the most logic, but you know Ko'Pei? The Federation works with a combination: It holds us back." He moved to down his mug, but realised he had already emptied the contents earlier.

"I would respond, but that may be considered mutiny towards Starfleet." Ko'Pei said, as if trying to make a joke. Lestrade covered his face, wagging a finger in Ko'Pei's direction. "Ko'Pei, you know I need you, and it is vital that you understand me here. When it comes to someone with a mind as clouded as mine, I need to know that I can count on someone. In essence, you are my counsel: The one person I can comfortably turn to when I need to think with a clear head, both from a logical view and a Starfleet view. We've yet to even forge this relationship finely over the past few weeks, and I realise you made that choice there for me. But Ko'Pei: It's not one I would have allowed you to make." Lestrade got up, waltzed over and firmly grabbed Ko'Pei's hand, its deathly cold quickly forcing a shiver down his spine.

"A friend in the Academy once told me that you can use logic to justify almost anything. That's certainly it's greatest power. But sometimes, in a universe like ours, it's the glaring flaw. I've slowly begun to abandon purely logical thinking over these weeks Ko'Pei, and started accepting... _Their_ way... I want you to too." Lestrade was sincere, caring to the end. She simply nodded, and at the permission of her Captain, left. As she marched to the Turbolift, she felt her hand: His grip had left a read mark on her pale hands, a feeling of soreness down her arm. She had deserved that.

X

(A/N) Dun-dun-duuun! That didn't go so well, did it? Part this is Part 1, what could possibly happen now?! Well, tune in for Part II to find out! :P (And yes, that speech was partially nicked from Voyager, sorry xD)

Also, last second Episode name change! :D


	6. The Tabula Rasa, Part II

**Star Trek: Pioneers**

(A/N) Episode 3, Part deux, SHWING! :D

Today, Lestrade's plans to kick start the mission to Sierra Two-Five go wrong, when an unexpected variable gets involved!

WARNING: A bit of blood and a bit of swearing! D:

**The Tabula Rasa, Part II:**

_Captains Log, Stardate 58051.5_

_Following the first tactical insertion into Sierra Two-Five, it seems apparent that the Jem'Hadaar are indeed stationed there. Our task force retreated under an ambush, and sustained casualties whose next of kin have been informed with condolences over their loss. With that comes a question: What is our next move? I intend to hold a meeting with Senior Staff to plan our next course of actions, or more lives could be lost.  
X_

Lestrade had never noticed just how damn squeaky his desk-chair could be at times. Maybe it was his imagination? He'd been alone in that room now for a good twenty minutes, and apart from that Log update, done nothing but think. Truthfully, the mission to Sierra Two-Five had completely slipped his mind. What he feared now was control: He'd tried to follow the recommendation of Captain Picard, but he simply couldn't do it. His own Officers were opinionated, undisciplined, and relied entirely on their own decision making on the battlefield. He worried for Drake, so young and naïve. He had potential, but thought like an angered child...

Yet again, was he so different?

Lestrade groaned, pulled out a PC, and got to work on the Duty Rosters for the next few weeks. He itched for some Chardonnay to beat back his sorrow, but his shaking hands would spill too much.

X

Ko'Pei had everything packed and ready, the once throbbing pain on her delicate hand now nothing more but an itch. The pack was certainly heavy, but she could easily lug it around without breaking a sweat. Composed as her people always were, she stepped out of her quarters and headed for the Shuttlebay.

X

"Captain on Deck!" Valdez called, heaving herself off of the Command Chair and snapping to attention before the rest of the Crew even noticed. Lestrade raised a hand warmly, doing his best to hide his gloom.  
"As you were." He marched up to his Second Officer, and leant forward to whisper in her ear:  
"Where's Thomas Gould, he's arrived hasn't he?" Valdez smiled in an almost motherly manner, quietly replying.

"He's in Engineering with Fontaine, those two are becoming fast companions." Lestrade nodded, his back creaking as he rose to his full height.

"Command's yours, Antheia. Oh, and there's a Meeting in my ready room at 0800 ST, remind anyone you run into." Satisfied by her nod, he hopped up to the Turbolift, and sighed as the doors shut: Was Valdez the only person he could trust? Maybe it was just because of her links to the famous Admiral, but she was by the book: Easy to read... Was that even a good thing?

X

Dmitri, one of the latest Security transfers was at the door to the Shuttlebay. His tall, muscular frame was large enough to make the door almost invisible to those who didn't know its location. Ko'Pei had chosen the Russian for her Security detail because of his superb vigilance, and surely enough, he spotted her slender form before she even spotted him.

"Lieutenant, the Captain hasn't given you any authorisation to enter the Shuttlebay. Leave." His loyalties were to the Captain, not her it seemed. The Vulcan set the large Pack onto the floor neatly, before folding her arms in an almost casual way.

"I understand that much, Crewman. I came here simply to talk." The Russian raised an eyebrow, his facade of stoicism quickly withering.

"W-Why? I'm here on duty, Lieutenant." The Vulcan took a step forward, like a predator approaching their prey.

"Seeing that you an I will be colleagues on this ship for the next few years, it seems appropriate that we 'Get to know eachother' as the Captain put it." The man shuddered, redness reaching his cheeks.

"R-Really? Well... Umm..." Ko'Pei took another step, now looking straight up at the man. Suddenly he stopped shivering.

"Hold on, why wasn't I noti-" In an instant, Ko'Pei reached for his throat and applied pressure. Dmitri collapsed, and after stretching for the Pack again, jumped over his unconscious body and darted for a Shuttle.

X

"Anyway, let it be known that a combination of Raktajino and a funnel will usually end badly, mon ami." Fontaine grinned, his head poking out of a Jefferies Tube. Gould giggled uncontrollably, kneeling with a box of tools at his side.

"14b." The Frenchman said, prompting Gould to pull out a labelled device of some sorts. As he handed it to Fontaine, the Captain appeared across from him.

"Thomas Gould, I presume? A pleasure to meet you." Lestrade knelt, trying to give of a welcoming image to the young Scotsman. It didn't work very well, the boy snapping to attention and dropping the 14b on Fontaine's head.

"OW!" He cried, Gould stopping mid salute to tend to his injured comrade.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Lestrade extended a hand to help the wounded Engineer out, the man taking it and quickly climbing to the same level.

"Captain, an honour for us to meet like this eh?" Fontaine smiled, resting on Gould's shoulder happily. Gould couldn't help but remain at attention, shouting in reply.

"Yes sir, an honour sir!" Lestrade held out his arms and motioned for him to stop, to which he complied.

"Well... I just wanted you to know as Senior Staff that there'll be a meeting at 0800 ST, my ready room." The two nodded in unison. Lestrade raised an eyebrow.

"... Have you two been together since this morning?" The two nodded once more.

"... Will you stop that?" They shook their heads.

X

With a quick scan over the security logs, Ko'Pei made certain that her craft would not be registered as leaving the ship: The crew would work it out eventually, but it would certainly give her more time. With that settled, she double-timed to the Shuttle door and-

"Hold it!" A rough voice growled. The Vulcan swerved around to find a rather angered Raleigh, Dmitri's Phaser on hand, the weapon trained steadily at the Vulcan's heart.

"Sergeant, put the weapon down." She commanded. He didn't comply, reaching for his Commbadge. In the blink of an eye, Ko'Pei whipped out her own Phaser, set to stun, and fired. The man was pegged in the chest and he collapsed atop the deeply sleeping Dmitri.

With a silent sigh, she continued to the pilots seat and took off for Sierra Two-Five.

X

An hour later, the Staff Meeting was at hand. Around a uniform table, Chadwick, Fontaine, Gould, Valdez and Lestrade sat. The Captain groaned, tapping his finger on the desk.

"I can't exactly go into Security Reports without the Security Chief in here... Where in the buggery are those two?" Chadwick grinned, fiddling with his glasses.

"What do boys and girls do when they're alone, Wallace?" The Captain glared at him, before Valdez spoke up.

"Perhaps they're still angry after the last mission, Captain?" Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "After all, Drake did stomp out from your Ready Room and kick a few things, notably Ensign Bartholomew." She continued. Chadwick sighed, eyes unblinking.

"It took me an hour to stop that wimp crying, jeez..." Lestrade got up, another eyebrow raised, giving him the face of a man accusing someone of farting in a turbolift.

"Drake I understand, but Ko'Pei? That's not the type of reaction a Vulcan would have." Valdez shrugged her shoulders, and Fontaine casually called out.

"Computer, locate Security Chief Ko'Pei." The computer replied monotonously.

"Security Chief Ko'Pei is no longer aboard this vessel." With that, Lestrade marched out onto the bridge. The Senior Staff exchanged glances before rising to follow him... All except Chadwick of course, who raised his hands in apparent surprise.

"... The answer is play Doctor? … Didn't anyone listen?" Groaning, he flipped out of his seat and jogged to join his fellow crew.

X

Ko'Pei made sure to land at the original missions extraction point. Knowing the Jem'Hadaar, they'd likely expect any further mission to take place at a different location. Her hopes proved correct, as she landed with little difficulty. Making sure to move with haste, she grabbed her kit, drew her Phaser and Naginata, and crouched behind a fallen tree from the previous engagement. The area stunk of death, the rotting corpse of Private Armi barely a few metres away, left to fester by the Jem'Hadaar. She frowned: The local Star would rise soon, and with that she'd lose this opportunity. Pressing on, she manoeuvred past Armi's body, making sure to nick his Rifle under the pretext that taking from a dead man isn't stealing, before scuttling to the plateau. Having woven by Sergeant Grove's corpse and the headless body of Lance Corporal Sultan, she searched through her Pack and pulled out a grapnel: It'd be difficult, but she'd make it. Without a sound, she spun the tool and launched it up to the top of the cliff face.

X

"Captain, the Shuttlebay is missing a ship. Security logs are blank, and we found Raleigh and Dmitri collapsed in the hallway." Valdez said, stepping out of the turbolift and standing at her leaders side. Lestrade couldn't believe it: She had betrayed him again. Holding back the urge to knock a few skulls together, he placed a hand on the pilots seat, Gould turning around to answer his imminent request.

"Helmsman, scan the planet, it's the only place she could be." He complied wordlessly, more out of fear than respect. Indeed, the viewscreen picked up her details, close to the Jem'Hadaar Camp.

"Beam her out." Lestrade said over Comms, knowing the answer already.

"Too much interference, we'd practically need to be in the field of the camp to get her out." Fontaine replied from Engineering. Valdez put her hands to her hips, eye's firm.

"I recommend that we send down another team to retrieve her." Chadwick barely held a chuckle, rocking back and forth on the First Officers chair as Lestrade spoke back.

"Nonsense, we've lost enough lives today. How about another Shuttle? We can go low enough to bypass the effect of the interference and beam her up from there." Pierre sighed impatiently.

"We'd open ourselves to enemy fire. It'd take an Ace Pilot to do that." As if summoned by this message, Frank Drake emerged from the turbolift like a bear from its cave. Chadwick pointed an accusing finger at him.

"There he is, Fontaine." Valdez walked up to him and grabbed his hands firmly.

"Frank, we need you. Can you take a Shuttle and save her?" Drake sneered, eyes staring at the back of the Captains head.

"I'm the First Officer here, Antheia. I'm supposed to be taking orders from _him."_

"They _are_ my orders, Number One. And if you don't follow them I'll be giving you a one-way trip to the Airlock." Lestrade instantly replied, eyes still fixed on the viewscreen. Drake groaned, and left for the turbolift once more.

"I'm considerate enough to show my face, and then you push me away again. Typical." As the doors shut, Lestrade motioned to Gould to go with him. He trusted the Scotsman much more than Drake. Hell, he trusted him more than he trusted himself at this point.

X

Two guards conversed at the door to some sort of generator room. It certainly stood out from the dark forest and damp grass. Ko'Pei, prone and concealed under foliage, pondered her next move. If they were using Dominion technology, it would be safe to assume that the generator was extremely unstable. It would also be safe to assume that terminals were located at every other structure of the camp. By detonating the generator, every single one of those terminals would also burst into flames, theoretically killing all of the Jem'Hadaar and destroying the outpost. Slowly crawling to one of the structures, she pressed her back to the cold material and slowly shuffled towards the generator. The Jem'Hadaar had a clear line of sight from here, and waking them up at this hour would end in quite a mess from her perspective. Silently, she reached a corner, continuing her painfully slow steps until arriving directly behind the two monsters. Deep into a conversation about some sort of boot wax popular at the local market, the two didn't at all notice the woman haul a bag into the Generator room. Carefully closing the door, she opened the pack and pulled out her main weapon: A set of Satchel Charges. Time to get to work.

X  
It was an awkward trip in the Shuttle, certainly: Drake was too angry to speak, whilst Gould was too shy to start a conversation. The two wordlessly agreed to stick to their duties, and avoid conversation. Well, until Gould broke that barrier.

"S-So... Commander?" The young man asked. Drake slowly spun his head around to meet his gaze.

"... What?" Gould's eyes widened, and he turned back to his console at the Co-pilots seat.

"Well... Why don't you like the Captain?" Drake groaned, also turning back to his controls.

"We disagree on many things. While I'm a humane person out to save lives, he's more than willing to abandon them. It's sickening that men like him can become Captains, but meh: It's war." Gould shook his head, a soft yet disapproving noise emerging from his throat.

"S-Sir... You've heard the motto of the famous Vulcan Spock, have you not?" Drake scoffed at this.

"Do you think I listened to those stupid lessons at the Academy, Gould? Go on, enlighten me." Gould held firm.

"'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few'. I read a report on the action sir, you took casualties trying to save one man." Drake held tightly onto his console, teeth bared.

"Because Ko'Pei thought it'd be a good idea to RUN." Gould still held his ground valiantly.

"Commander, something I was taught at the Academy was that there is a great difference between "Running" from a battle, and "Withdrawing" from one." Drake certainly had a witty reply up his sleeves, but a hail of fire from the Jem'Hadaar below suddenly barged into their discussion.

"Damage report?" Drake demanded, scanning the horizon. Gould blinked, confused by the sudden change of pace.

"Shuttle Base Shields at 91%, must've been small-arms fire rather than automated turrets." That was certain: The camp was created with stealth in mind, so why would they build any noticeable defence towers? "Compensating." Gould continued.

X

With a dive and roll, Ko'Pei positioned herself at a crouch behind a set of inactive power-conduits. The two guards stationed outside chose one hell of a moment to sweep the area, and they had spotted her before she had a chance to hide. Hails of energy screeched by her head, as she fumbled for her Phaser. The Compression Rifle hanging loosely across her stomach could be used for the bigger gangs of foes that were certainly moving up, but for a small duo like this? Childs play. Leaning to the side, she pulled the trigger and fired a stream set to kill at a computer station close to the Jem'Hadaar. The explosion and smoke surprised the two, allowing Ko'Pei to leap over her cover and advance. By the time the two had turned around to continue their struggle, Ko'Pei had let off another stream of death from her weapon, hitting one of the giant creatures in the chest and throwing him against a wall. Enraged, his comrade scooped up his weapon and charged, mounting suppressive fire for himself. Mildly impressed by the barbarians skill, the Vulcan holstered her Phaser and quickly searched for her Naginata. Whipping it out, the small 30cm blade unfolded into a long staff, which she quickly caught hold of and counter-charged with. The Jem'Hadaar swung his weapon like a bludgeon, but it was easily dodged by the nimble Security Chief. Open to attack, Ko'Pei thrusted upwards and buried her weapon deep into the warriors stomach. Continuing the push, she ran him against the wall before removing her blade and legging it for the exit. The Jem'Hadaar crumpled to the floor, his surprised face shrouded by the dark of the dying camp electrics.

X

"Just reaching 50%, we won't be able to hold much longer!" Gould growled "Re-routing all unnecessary system power to the shields!" Drake glanced at the young Scot, his eyes strong in the face of danger. Leaning over, he motioned towards a screen.

"As soon as you pick her up, I want you to send all power to the Transporter to get her out. Even after we pierce through the interference, we'll need all the energy we can muster." Surprisingly, Gould wasn't particularly bothered by this.

"We'd better do that quick then, the hull with minimal shielding could barely last 10 seconds." With an acknowledging nod, Drake barrel-rolled out of an incoming barrage and zoomed ahead.

X

More resistance was amassed outside, but the Vulcan was pleased to find their backs turned. High in the sky flew a Shuttle Craft, dodging and dancing around the many bolts fired by the Jem'Hadaar. Knowing the shuttle had no hope of surviving this violent volley, Ko'Pei quickly found some cover around a corner, dropped a knee and levelled her Compression Rifle against her shoulder. Holding her breath, she aimed to the left and swept her weapon across, its secondary fire of a constant beam sending many foes to the ground in agony. Alas, the Jem'Hadaar outnumbered her greatly, and the group sent a few troops to deal with her whilst the majority continued its fire. Staying true to their famed tactics, the squad of three charged straight for her maniacally. Spraying the group with energy, her weapon suddenly packed up: Overheated! Looking back up from the now sizzling weapon, she discovered that one barbarian still remained, and was currently in the process of grabbing for her neck. With no time to react, the Vulcan leapt back to the floor with a crash. However, the berserker kept going, and landed atop the woman and squeezed her neck. Baring his pointed teeth, the creature leant in to glare deep into the eyes of the thrashing Vulcan. Her lungs burning in fury, she pathetically grabbed onto his hands in a desperate attempt to push him off. Her brain starved of oxygen, the instinct to survive took command, and she swung a knee into the mans crotch. Reeling back from the pain, she arched her leg and kicked him in the chest, sending him to the ground. Crawling over, she swung a punch at the monster, which was hastily replied to with a headbutt. Enjoying the moment, the Jem'Hadaar once more grabbed the stunned Vulcans throat, and heaved her into the air with one hand. Drooling and spluttering, all she could do was resist the inevitable: Her dazed arms wouldn't listen to her demands, and her Rifle laid smoking metres away: Defeat was imminent.

Truthfully, the young Vulcan had never really thought of death before. In her late 50s, she had been too busy studying the history of Japan and her own home to really bother. Such a short, insignificant life to live. It sickened her that she could not take her own life, but fate was a cruel mistress. She had nothing to say, no last words to artistically mumble: She just flopped and coughed in a feeble display of defiance as darkness gripped her.

Well, that was before the blue light of a Transporter lifted her away.

X

The Security Chief appeared in a curled up heap across the seats of the Shuttle Hold. The viewscreen was shattered, visible holes covering the walls of the hull.

"She's in, we're off!" Gould cheered, as Drake swung the ship up to a near vertical angle. They certainly wouldn't make it at this rate.

"Gould, all power to the engines!" He shook his head, hopping out of his seat and kneeling at Ko'Pei's side.

"All energy is already there, Commander! No life-support, no shields, just engines!" Fear struck the boys face for the first time this evening, much to Drake's relief: At least someone in here understood the situation. Suddenly, an idea hit him.

"Gould, providing that we make it out of the interference bubble, could the Pioneer beam us out?" The Scotsman nodded. Drake clicked, and leapt for his chair.

"Relaying SOS message via Morse Code via Sonar." Gould raised an eyebrow, standing up and looking over his Commanders shoulder.

"Sonar? That's out too, if we re-route power to the transmitter we will never get the engines kicking again!" Drake laughed, glancing over his shoulder.

"I never said I would us the transmitter did I? Providing I don't turn off the engines, I can fluctuate the engines from 100% to 5% power. If that came off on the Pioneers systems, wouldn't they notice such a unique pattern? It'd be very unlikely for that to happen by an error, and even then they'd beam us off! See? That's a trick they don't teach at the Academy!" With a grin, Gould took a seat, transferred main control to his own panel and got to work on keeping the rapidly disintegrating ship together for a tad longer.

X

Crewman Tobias certainly noticed the readings on his readout, but didn't really feel the need to speak of it. He casually ignored it and continued his work lazily... Until Commander Valdez swooped in and pushed him away.

"That's Morse, Captain!" She beckoned. Irritated, Tobias slinked away whilst Lestrade marched to the console.

"... Well, that's quite rude..." Valdez muttered, going over the display. Before Lestrade had a chance to see himself, she minimised the translated note and swung around to meet him.

"C-Captain! Drake requests a transport from the Shuttle, the superstructure is collapsing at a frightening speed." Lestrades brow furrowed.

"They'll need to break it out of the interference bubble if we can stand a chance, and even then who knows what will happen? They might be turned inside out!" The Captain failed to notice Chadwick still on the Bridge, who quickly called "The inside of the uniform in black, that goes with anything!".

"Sir, if we don't do it they'll definitely be killed. I'd say the risk must be taken." With a moments deliberation, he nodded, and his Second Officer relayed the command as he took a seat. Suddenly, a Crewman called out.

"Sir! We've got them!" Lestrade swung out of his chair before his rear even hit the cushions, and pointed at the woman.

"Beam them up, now!" Barely seconds later, the Shuttle Craft burst into flames and cinder: No life signs were present. As Lestrade reached for his commbadge, another explosion on the surface, the Jem'Hadaar camp, also exploded into smoke.

"... Lestrade to Transporter Room, did we get them? … Transporter Room?" Static... Static... "Yes, we've got them Captain." Muttered the Chief.

X

Captain Lestrades fingers tapped against his desk at a slow, steady rate. In front of him stood the Vulcan who had caused all this, the Vulcan whose career he could end with a single word. Eventually he stopped, his body still motionless on his chair.

"What am I going to do with you, Ko'Pei?" The Vulcan, battered and bruised, stood at attention calmly.

"I expect to me court-martialed, sir. I acted out of order for reasons even I do not understand." With that, Lestrade stood up and slowly walked around his desk.

"Oh, of course. You'd be stripped of your rank and sent right back to that planet so foreign to us to sty in both dishonour and disappointment for the rest of your years... As much as that seems fitting... Just go, Lieutenant. Get yourself cleaned up and report to your station, you're behind on your rosters." Ko'Pei blinked in apparent disbelief, her composure dropping.

"S-Sir? Ho-" Lestrade cut in, strolling past the Vulcan and moving for the door.

"Have you ever heard of a theory called 'Tabula Rasa'? A famous Earth Philosopher called John Locke proposed that all beings are born as a blank slate: We're nothing until the world around us shapes our minds. We're clay, and existence is our moulder. You see, you're still a child in your species. True, you're older than me, but I've been dried into a sculpture. You on the other hand are still a pile of clay, slowly being shaped into a being. What you did today is a lesson that will help in shaping you not only into an adult, but into a Vulcan. I've forged my original log, to Starfleet the first mission was successful and this charade never happened." Ko'Pei was shocked, turning around and reaching out.

"Sir, you do know what will happen if this is ever found out?" Lestrade nodded, and opened the door.

"Indeed I do. But your actions today were for me: It only makes sense that I return the favour." With a warm smile, he beckoned her to leave. With a bow, she stumbled out stiff-leggedly. Barely moments later, the doors opened to reveal Frank Drake, his face filled with guilt. Lestrade once again smiled, a habit he'd started to take a strange liking to.

"There you are Number One, take a seat." He motioned to his sofa, and Drake replied silently. Eventually the two were seated alongside each other, an awkward silence in the air.

"Drink?" Lestrade asked, still forcing a smile. Drake shook his head.

"... Music?" Lestrade asked again, still smiling goofily. Drake once more shook his head, frowning.

"Well... Do you mind if I play some?" Lestrade's façade was breaking: He didn't want to be talking like this, he felt like a teacher at a school for the types who thought Areola was the name of an Italian footballer. Drake once more shook his head, and with a small sigh the Captain stood up and went to play some tunes. Only then did the Australian speak up.

"I'm sorry sir, I acted out of anger and-" Lestrade's façade crumbled completely, and he swung back around.

"Well placed resentment, it seems." Drake paused, and stared at the ground. Lestrade slowly walked back, a soothing Jazz tune playing from his desk.

"What is it between you and I, Frank? Since the start of this voyage, it's been nothing but hatred between us." Drake forced a smile, his head moving up but his eyes remaining low.

"With all due respect, Captain, you were the one who hated me first." Lestrade laughed dryly, acknowledging the truth.

"I guess so... I... I never got to know you, Number One... Tell me..." He took a seat once more "... Tell me about yourself." Drake blew out some air, licking his lips.

"Well... Not much to say... I grew up an only son, ex-Starfleet dad... All he ever wanted was for me to be successful, to succeed where he failed... I was always afraid that I'd never make it... In fact, I think I've already failed him..." Lestrade scoffed, glancing out of the window.

"Shut it, you haven't failed him: Not many people can say that they've served as the First Officer of a Command Vessel!" Drake smirked, continuing.

"Still... I'm sure you know what it's like? Growing up with all of these expectations, only for you very life's work to be a bitter disappointment..." Lestrade shook his head, not picking up the accidental insult.

"Hmm... Well then... What about you?" Lestrade snapped around and looked straight at him.

"Excuse me?" Drake smiled.

"About you? What was your childhood, teens, life before this like?" Lestrade laughed nervously.

"Well... W-Well... You know... Average... Normal, average, normal childhood... Friends... Girlfriends, lots of girlfriends of course... P-Pub crawls with the London lads... You know..." Drake leant forward, eyebrows raised.  
"Really, that's it? Come on, there's more to you th-" Lestrade suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll tell you another day, Frank. Until then, get back to work, eh?" Drake sighed, stood up and walked towards the door. As the seal opened, revealing the bridge, he turned towards the seated Captain:

"Well then, Wallace, I hope our-" Lestrade flinched and called out.

"Captain, Number One..." Looking over the Australians shoulder, he smirked. "At least when the others are around." With a warm chuckle, Drake left and the doors silently closed. Lestrade returned to his desk, turned off the music and sighed.

"... Perhaps my clay has yet to dry..."

X

"So then, Lieutenant, any hot news off the front?" Chadwick asked, scanning Ko'Pei with a tricorder. Seated on an operating table, she spoke distractedly.

"No, the mission was a success and we are returning to patrol. However..." Chadwick wiggled his nose, his glasses dancing on his face.

"However? Something bothering you Ko?" Mildly annoyed by the nickname, she replied.

"My novel appears to be missing. I've searched the ship, but I can't seem to find it. I'm considering sending out search parties, but that would be unacceptable." Chadwick sighed, reeling back and motioning for her to get up. She acknowledged and stretched, cracking her neck and looking down to find... Chadwick, reading her book. With a laugh, he closed it and tossed it onto a counter.

"Well that was a bloody good cliffhanger! That love triangle with the lad from the local charity organisation? Amazing... So then, can I borrow the next one?" Something resembling a blush filled the Vulcans cheeks, her pride hanging in the balance.

"... Very well." She groaned, outstretching a hand.

"Brutal!" Chadwick cheered, handing over the book "Say, when you finish that we could discuss it eh? Maybe we can start a club, I'll show it to Herschel!" The Vulcan shook her head, holding the book close to her heart.

"I have already read the book sixteen times, as well as the other nine volumes." Chadwick choked on air, cleaning his glasses.

"... Just so we get this straight, you're not a Betazoid during the heat are you?" She shook her head.

"Thank buggery for that..."

X  
A long and terrible conclusion to that episode! And just so you know, that book will be mentioned again... Many times... :D

Join us again next time, where on a mission to fight an emerging hostile race, the Pioneer encounters its sister ship, the **Dunraven**, and its Captain...

Incidentally, review plox? I'd love some feedback :P


	7. The Dunraven, Part I

**Star Trek: Pioneers**

(A/N) Episode 4, Part 1 ladies and germs!

Today, Lestrade meets up with and old friend on the Pioneers sister ship, the USS Dunraven, enroute to a mission against a hostile power on the Delta Quadrant border!

**The Dunraven, Part I:**

_First Officer's Log, Stardate 59152.2_

_For the past few hours, we have been journeying towards a rally point at the Delta Quadrant border to meet with the Pioneers sister, the Dunraven. With Commander Chadwick's insistence, Captain Lestrade has been having a spot or R and R on the Holodeck. Sadly, it's time for me to interrupt his fantasy, as the Dunraven nears us._

X

Drake certainly didn't see it coming when he slipped into the Holodeck. When it came to Captain Lestrade, he always thought of a British Army fanatic: Spitfires overhead, Green Jackets dispatching waves of Frenchmen, and maybe a little bit of time to stare at the Union Jack and shed a single tear. Imagine his surprise then when he entered the amazing machine to see a rolling field of the greenest grass and the brightest flowers. On a plain that stretched for eternity, the blue sky being nothing but fog at the edges lay a single hill. Upon this hill was a tree, and two figures sat at its base. Shrugging his broad shoulders, Drake ran his hand through the plant life as he slowly climbed the hill: It was barely a mound, like a small bruise on a child's hand. When the duo came into view, he certainly felt the urge to giggle: A young girl, barely resembling a 16 year-old, was kneeling with the Captains head rested on her lap. Their eyes closed and a soothing silence between them, it was as if the two were speaking to one another through mind alone. Drake lost count of how many minutes he spent watching the two, almost feeling bad for interrupting the man's sleep. Crouching to join them, Lestrade slowly opened an eye.

"What is it, Frank?" he groaned, the girl's delicate hands slowly stroking his head like an evil villain and his cat. Drake grinned, pulling at the grass to his side.

"Captain, the Dunraven is nearing. Sorry to say, but I think you're gonna have to leave this... Princess... Alone for a bit, eh?" He analysed the girl further. She was clad in a purple dress, mixing Victorian and Georgian styles. A ribbon in her light brown hair, her skin was spotless in the shade of the foliage. Drake had to admit, he had never really been much of a Holodeck fan, but this simulation was absolutely amazing. The lady nodded at Lestrade, and after a brief whisper, he groaned.

"Pause." The Captain heaved himself up, annoyance evident in his dazed stagger. Before Drake could inquire over the scene, Lestrade raised a halting hand.

"She's from a book I read once, Lady Barrington. She's always been very polite and comforting to be with." Drake grinned, summoning the exit.

"Comforting in what way, Wallace?" Lestrade chuckled, pushing Number One through the exit gently.

"Cut the wit, hotshot."

X

Your usual formalities of salutes and attentions occurred when the Captain reached the bridge. Flopping onto his seat like a middle-aged man during a cult TV marathon, he was quickly joined by fellow Command Officers. Valdez pulled out a PADD and went over basic rosters and information for the Captain before reaching the important data: The lowdown on the USS Dunraven. Apart from its status as a twin to the Pioneer, little had been given to Lestrade.

"She's a mirror to us, Captain. If it wasn't for the paint on the bonnet, you wouldn't be able to tell us apart." Lestrade rolled his eyes: Whoever this was, they'd certainly never beat his skill in the field. After the Sierra Two-Five, he'd put a lot of work into befriending his Senior Staff. He was certain now that they were battle ready, under his command, and willing to suppress their opinions and take his decisions as absolute. Valdez continued, passing the PADD over to Drake. He raised his eyebrows, putting a finger to a line of text.

"The Captain sounds interesting. Ex-Hazard Team, Anglo-Dutch." Lestrade grinned, glancing at his Second Officer.

"Dutch, eh? Well, I knew a Dutchman during my Academy years, and he was one hell of a bundle of joy." Valdez smiled considerately, doing what she could to keep the Captain in good spirits. No sooner did he say that, Helmsman Gould spoke up.

"In range now sir, we're being hailed." Lively and upbeat for once, Lestrade got up from his chair and stepped forward. "On screen."

With a burst of static, a bridge identical to the Pioneers appeared on the screen. A man, also standing, bearing the pips of a Captain stared through the image. Lestrade recognised the firm jaw and motionless brow instantly. He folded his arms and grinned.

"Duncan Bairstow, you son of a gun. I didn't know you were commanding the Pioneers little sister!" The Captain aboard the Dunraven returned with a smirk, leaning forward challengingly.

"Well excuse me Mister, me and my crew are practically Admirals compared to your lot! It's a pleasure to see you again, mate!" Bairstow laughed, his smile almost reaching his ears. Drake and Valdez silently walked to their Commanding Officers side, as did their counterparts on the other ship. Lestrade knew Bairstow during his time in the Academy. A man prone to anger, but loyal and full of wisdom either way, he'd turned to him for advice during his early naïve years. To be honest, he couldn't be happier if the Captain of the Dunraven was the Queen of England: Bairstow was probably the only Captain of Starfleet he'd look to as an equal, rather than down at as another empty and basic digit glued to the regulations.

"Lestrade, I'd like you to meet First Officer Carlyle Jean-Baptiste and Second Officer Ryu Argyas, firm men who I am certain will become the next big Captains of Starfleet... Well, after you and I, I suppose..." Lestrade scanned the two, tall and handsome. He swore he could sense his own officers shoulders droop as if defeated. He threw his arms over their shoulders like a Liverpool Drunkard to get their attention.

"First Officer Frank Drake and Second Officer Antheia Valdez, also firm men... Man and woman... People... Yeah..." Bairstow stared at Valdez in astonishment, like an old woman searching through her purse to find three tickets to a Black Metal concert, half a litre of petrol and a Compression Rifle.

"Daughter of the Admiral eh? Brutal!" Valdez suppressed a groan: She never liked people referring to her lineage, it didn't make her better or worst than any other Officer. Bairstow tapped his foot, exchanging whispers with his Second Officer before he swung out a PADD. Argyas stepped forward, and spoke with a strong Turkish accent.

"Captain Lestrade, I have further details on our task. Would you like me to share the information, or are you already sufficiently informed?" Despite the Universal Translator, it sounded as if he was having trouble speaking. Lestrade took no notice, and nodded. The man took a deep breath of air, and begun.

"We are to make contact with the planet of Yo Heim just across the Quadrant border. The planets inhabitants have proven hostile against a smaller Federation merchanting vessel that was presumably lost during its travels. There were no survivors, but Starfleet has deemed this acceptable. Upon reaching Yo Heim, we are to negotiate its willing annexation into the Federation, or their neutrality to our cause. They have only just recently reached warp capability, but they have possessed fairly effective warships for many years." the Second Officer practically collapsed into a wheezing heap, Lestrade briefly thinking of Ko'Pei easily dispensing that information in the same monotone. Bairstow put a finger to his lower lip, leaning back.

"Well Lestrade, we shouldn't leave our suitors waiting eh? This'll be just like old times." Lestrade smiled, to which the Viewscreen was shut off. Drake raised an eyebrow as the trio returned to their seats.

"... Didn't anyone notice me?" Lestrade ignored this, and called out to the Helmsman.

"Mr. Gould, Warp 7 on my mark: Engage."

X

The lights were dim, the ships computers louder than ever as the trio sat in a circle. Their legs crossed, hands wielding books of identical markings, the sky soft yet uniform in colour. Mysterious mumbles filled the air, the crisp turning of fresh natural pages punctuating the excha-

"... Arthur, do we really need this damn medical blanket on our heads? We're not having a sleepover!" Herschel growled, leaping to his feet and living the first weekly book-club meeting in the Sickbay. With an exchange of glances between the Security Chief and Medical Officer, Chadwick sighed.

"Guess he didn't like the atmosphere... That, or what the girl says on page ninety-four!" The Vulcan quickly flicked over to the accused page, and read what was spoken. Her eyes darted at him, almost humanely sickened.

"... That is the most sensitive scene in the entire chapter, Commander Chadwick." He laughed, rising to his feet and rolling up the blanket

"Oh please! Tell me, who in their right mind would abandon a chance to marry a superstar in 21st Century Japan? With the economy like it was back then, anyone would leap at the chance with both hands out!" The Vulcan shook her head, and rose to her feet.

"Commander, you must understand that she did so out of love. The man wanted her for her beauty, not for her mind: She was to be a plaything, nothing more. She went against the recommendations of her expectant family and instead continued her search for true love as a pure woman." Chadwick scoffed, bunging the blanket under his desk alongside a jumble of loose wires and other strange items.

"Women, eh? … No offence."

X

The Pioneer and the Dunraven exited warp alongside one-another, the planet of Yo Heim in sight. After a bout of bickering between the two Captains like two mothers at a shopping centre, Lestrade hailed the planet with the closest thing to a considerate expression plastered on his face. The viewscreen suddenly burst to life, displaying a tall woman with hooked ears. They almost resembled large apostrophe's, curling down to her shoulders.

"Ah, madam. I am Captain Wallace Lestrade of the USS Pi-" Barely seconds into the routine introduction, the Yo Heim woman interrupted.

"You've been warned not to interfer with us. Pull out now, or you will be fired upon." With that message, a small group of ships, one of them double the size of the Pioneer, emerged from the planet. Lestrade had little to no choice but to accept this apparent "escort".

"V-Very well, madam. We just want you to understand that Starfleet has no quarrels with you, and wishes to promote an era of peace and t-" Explosions slammed against the Pioneer. The Yo Heim Ships had closed the distance, and opened fire upon the duo of Federation craft. Lestrade motioned for evasive action, and quickly stumbled to his chair as the ship rattled.

"Red Alert, to your posts!" Lestrade growled. His First Officer assisted a fallen crewman before joining him.

"Guess they're not ones for glittery words, eh?" Drake sighed. The Dunraven leant to one side, and swept a ray of phaser energy across a wing of Yo Heim fighters. Most of the nimble M shaped crafted managed to dodge it, but it effectively dispersed the group and forced it to retreat and regroup.

"Lestrade, horns of the buffalo, your port to my starboard." Bairstow stated from the Dunraven, referring to the tactic used by the Zulu warriors of South Africa hundreds of years ago. Giving the order, the two Nebula-Class ships swept in a scissor motion, commencing independent bombing runs on the larger craft in the hope of discouraging them. Things were going well, until a message came from Engineering.

"Captain, I'm detecting multiple breaches to the ships shielding, they're focusing fire on the field emitters on Deck 10." Fontaine said, the sounds of work audible in the background.  
"On screen." Lestrade commanded, surprisingly calm compared to his usual self. Valdez had to admit, she was impressed. The viewscreen revealed a charred section of the ship, many beam weapons and cruise missiles being launched there by the Yo Heim.  
"You getting this Bairstow?" Lestrade asked over Comms, to which he got an acknowledging groan. Behind her console, Ko'Pei certainly had her own theories: Perhaps the Yo Heim knew the ships design? Maybe they had some sort of device to scan ships? They might of just been terribly lucky shots. A particularly large rumble hit the ship, as a Yo Heim bomber broke through the barrage of phaser fire and dropped its payload.

"Casualties on Deck 10... Additional, fires on Decks 9 and 14. Captain, I strongly suggest we pull out and regroup." Ko'Pei said, reading the numbers like a national lottery presenter.

"She's right, they've got our numbers Wallace." Bairstow grumbled. Lestrade had always seen himself as a reasonable man, but he was never good at accepting defeat. However, today wasn't the best day to die.

"Gould, disperse." With a nod, the Scotsman careened the ship over like a stubborn mule and entered Warp. The Dunraven followed suit, and with the silence of space came the quiet cheers of a victorious people.

X

The duo of craft sat at the border to lick their wounds. One thing remained consistent between the ships: More than 90% of damage recieved was at the field emitter on their tenth decks, which were essential in producing shields. While damaged, they were certainly still recoverable, however the issue there was simply time. Fontaine predicted that he could repair the emitters to a functional status in 72 hours, but suggested that the ships return to a Space Station to get the proper equipment and pieces to replace the burnt out essentials. In the meantime, the Senior Staff of both ships held a conference over their viewscreens to review the days events. Valdez was quick to notice something:

"Where's your Chief Engineer, are they commanding the Dunraven repair teams?" A solemn look came across Bairstows eyes, as he placed his palm across his forehead.

"She's been missing for a few weeks now, and we've finally worked out where she's been..." His First Officer presented a PADD and sighed.

"Gwen Quinn is currently on that planet. We think she's the one dictating the fleet: She know's the Nebula-Class like the back of her hand." Over the viewscreen, the PADD displayed the face of a Bajoran-Human female, her hair short and slicked back. Lestrade had to admit, he was a little disheartened by this: While he had always been vocal with his distaste towards practically every sentient due to their unpredictability and likelihood of betrayal, he'd never witnessed it within Starfleet. He'd heard stories, but he'd never thought it'd happen to him. Chadwick leant forward, his face and tone still at the preset they had always been since the Pioneer's voyage began.

"This Mannequin lady, did she have a record of any criminal activity? Anything to be charged by? How about mental issues?" Under a flurry of questions, Chadwicks big-nosed counterpart on the Dunraven, a Guernsey man called Reginald Mortis, sighed.

"She is mentally and physically healthy in all departments, Commander. As for a criminal record, we have no evidence of such on records. I assure you, she wasn't that sort of person." Chadwick grinned, covering his mouth.

"You'd certainly know that, kiddo. Hehheh..." Mortis raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond.

"I recommend you commence further research into Lieutenant Commander Gwen Quinn's history as a person, not just on a medical level. I've been met with criminals before who became so only under the instruction of their friends." Ko'Pei asked. Well, being a Vulcan it sounded more like a demand, but that wasn't the point. Her counterpart on the Dunraven, a crossbreed of a human and a species unknown to the Federation by the name of Falkner spoke up. His American accent was thicker than a slab of Anchor Butter, and rumbled the room.  
"I'll do so. In the meantime, we should also address what Quinn has told them. What if they know more than just the layout of our ships? They might have access to security codes even we can't override." He motioned towards Ko'Pei, who nodded stoically.

"Very well, meeting adjourned. Bairstow, we'll rendezvous back at Rally Point Alpha in the next few days. Until then." The crews rose from their seats, and the surprisingly forlorn Bairstow responded.  
"Aye, until then."

X

Fontaine wasn't doing his job right now. No, that was allocated to Tobias Justin, one of the three Bajoran brothers that he knew on the ship. They were a cheeky bunch, and with them he'd made his own poker group: The Four Musketeers... Well, the Three Musketeers, they always made him be the Queen of Spain for some strange reason. From the straight-to-duty Transporter Chief Tobias Boone, to the job dodging Tobias Kurt at Command, and finally the young bottom-kisser crewman stood in front of him right now, Tobias Justin, working on the field emitters. As the young man opened old wounds and smithed new ones through the ships electrical systems, hearing Deck 10's dazed computer recite the entirety of Act 3 Scene 1 from Romeo & Juliet in slow-motion, Pierre du Fontaine was up to a bit of skullduggery. While the ship was locked in battle with the Yo Heim fleet, he saw it fit to scan the planet for anything of tactical value which could be used by the Federation. It was then that he realised the Yo Heim didn't breathe oxygen, rather something extremely peculiar: They breathed extremely small solid particles of an element similar to the Earth element Francium. Visually on the planet, it'd appear to be snowing a violent blizzard constantly, but this snow was actually the substance required for life. It finally occurred to him that there was only one logical reason that the Yo Heim was so hostile: They feared that the Federation would shoot at them, and that a spark from a single phaser would decimate and raze the entire planet. Leaping over a now crouching Justin who was currently midway through beating a callibrator furiously with a hyrdospanner, Fontaine rocketed for the Bridge: If another skirmish occurred between the Yo Heim and the Starfleet duo, the planet was doomed to be but a smoking carcass in the vast cosmic arena known as the Delta Quadrant.

X

(A/N) DUN DUN DUUUUN! We've got more where that came from! Get ready for the political turmoil of Part II, coming when I feel like it! :P

Oh, and review plox? :D


	8. The Dunraven, Part II

**Star Trek: Pioneers**

(A/N) Episode 4, Part 2 ladies and germs!

Today, upon discovering the truth behind the Yo Heim, Lestrade must diffuse a rapidly escalating chance of conflict!

**The Dunraven, Part II:**

_Captain's Log, Stardate 59152.3_

_Under new light from my Chief Engineer, it has come to my attention that the planet of Yo Heim is extremely unstable. It is logical to assume that the Yo Heim fear our involvement, and the possibility that we will either draw fire to them or open fire ourselves to cause a violent chain reaction that will destroy the entire species. From here we are faced with an issue: What is our next move?_

X

Pierre raised an eyebrow as the Captain finished his log. To be honest, he never actually understood why they were kept: Would anyone really need to know what he was doing in a hurry? "Captain's Log, currently having Porridge and a pint of sterilised milk for breakfast, after that I'll be doing odd jobs all day". It's like an entry in the journal of a failing Bulgarian rock star. The Captain hopped off his chair and stood alongside the Frenchman, the two a similar height.

"Fontaine, I want reports to be sent to the Dunraven: Every Crewman, Officer and lavatory rat needs to know of this development: No sparks, no fireworks." The two marched out of the Captain's Ready Room, and emerged at the Bridge. A sleepy Gould did a good job in masking his drool coated panel, but Lestrade didn't care either way.

"Gould, 180 back to the planet. We need to settle this peacefully, no matter how much they insist on fighting." The Helmsman nodded and got to work. Fontaine excused himself back to Engineering, mostly due to the pacing Captain looking a tad bit too shaky to talk to.

X

Drake was certainly worried about the man bolting back and forth in front of him. True, most of that worry was for the carpet that he was slowly wearing away like a Dalmatian humping a models leg. Lestrade has always been an unstable man in his eyes, a Captain by name alone. To say the truth, behind the smiles he still despised the man. Was it his inability to perform? His constant avoidance of conversation? He'd certainly been trying, but getting him to speak to his crew was like convincing a History Class to run a Powerpoint presentation over the creation and usage of bath plugs through our times.

However, for Lestrade to get the rank he had to have been remarkable at some point. It was from that the First Officer concluded that his superior had been affected by something recently, something mentally horrifying and beyond his capabilities of controlling. It was apparent that a meeting with Chadwick was in order, and after sneaking past the form of Lestrade, who was half way through bashing his head against a nearby Ensign, Drake entered the turbolift.

X

Upon reaching Sickbay, Chadwick was not immediately visible. It took Drake a moment to pinpoint it, but eventually he realised that the Chief Medical Officer was midway through taking a refreshing nap under a desk. Squatting to rouse him from his slumber, Drake took note of his eyes: He had never actually seen Chadwick with his eyes closed before. Hell, he'd never seen him sleep to be honest, and with deep grey bags making the twenty-something year old man's face resemble a scrotum at times, the First Officer began to wonder if he ever slept at all. One thing chilled his bones though, and that was the man's grin: Even in sleep, Chadwick bore the same Cheshire Cat smile he usually had, and it gave a strange vibe of danger to Drake. He would've thought more into this idea, but at that point Chadwick rose from the desk, his legs alone pulling up his entire body as if they were pulling up a dead torso.

"Gaaawd, bloody... Ack, there... Hey there, Commander, what can I do you for?" Chadwick asked, yawning loudly as he casually reached for a stone cold cup of tea on his desk.

"I was wondering abo-"

"SWEET SALMONELLA, THAT'S THE KICK" Chadwick screeched, eyes widening in appreciation of the ice cool beverage he had just downed. Slapping himself a few times, he turned to his computer and began typing.

"Continue, Frank." Drake took no notice of his outburst, and continued.

"Arthur, if I'm correct you have minor experiences in psychological analysis." Chadwick grinned, reaching for the now empty cup of tea and licking at its rim like a starving tramp with a bottle of whiskey.

"I tend to forget all the big Greek words, but I know more than an Ops member if that's what you mean. What's cooking?" He smiled warmly, sending shivers in its falseness down Drake's spine.

"Well... Do you have any psychological profiles on the Captain?" Drake inquired. Chadwick's grin grew to touch the tips of his ears, eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Oh yes I do, and it is a juicy read." Drake noted the words "Jaim Adorr" on Chadwicks computer, alongside the words "sedatives", "Jackhammer" and "Coleslaw" in true Officer fashion.

"... So what's up with him?" Drake pushed.

"Oi oi, Doctor's confidence eh?" Chadwick chuckled, turning around and locking eyes with the First Officer. The Medical Chief's eyes were empty as usual, like a clay doll hidden among the real. Drake knew he had no other business with the nutcase, and left.

X

"Yo Heim vessel? This is Captain Duncan Bairstow of the USS Dunraven. We approach under parley; I insist we have no desire to fire." Bairstow chimed from his ship adjacent to the Pioneer. His Yo Heim equivalent finally acknowledged in audio only, laying down his terms.

"I am Captain Jute of the LOS _Anvil, _we accept under our own additional terms. You are to power down your shields and weapons. We don't want any... Misfires... Do we?" Drake muttered to Valdez from his Command Chair.

"Oh, I'm _certain_ our shields are a health risk."

"We comply, Captain Jute. Dunraven to Pioneer?" Bairstow said, awaiting input from Lestrade.

"Acknowledged and applied. Shields and weapons down, moving in on impulse." Gould nodded to this indirect command, and put the ship forward in a calm drift. Lestrade took this as his opening to begin, Bairstow surprisingly silent.

"Captain Jute, I would like you to know that we understand your situation. We have scanned the composition of your atmosphere: You're afraid that getting involved with external politics will put your planet at risk, aren't you?" The alien scoffed at this, like a child accused of wetting the bed.

"You honestly think that is why we avoid you? We've heard of your methods, Captain, your torture of those who don't work at peak efficiency? Disgusting." Lestrade raised an eyebrow, and when I say raised I mean "Like a kite and sailing off into the air-con" raised.

"I beg your pardon." Lestrade said rather than asked, Jute continuing.

"Oh yes, Lady Gwen Quinn told us all about you: You hunt down those who say no, then execute them as an example? To put such a young lady through so much heartache, you monste-" Lestrade snapped at this point with sudden anger, butting in violently.

"You speak only lies, foul fool! You've been fed so much in wrongs that you're vomiting them out in the putrid garble of sick you call speech! Listen here, you animal: That woman is a puppeteer, and yo-" Sobbing faker than a teenage boys love life was suddenly audible over the comm. From the LOS Anvil, Chief Engineer Gwen Quinn presented herself, the viewscreen now showing the surprisingly advanced interior of the ship, as well as the humanoid appearance of Jute. He possessed hooked ears and large bone-like rings around his eyes, like a man wearing goggles, but apart from that he looked identical to a tanned human. Jute wrapped his arms over Quinn's form, patting her head like a father.

"You don't have to look at them again, lady, you may return to your room." Quinn shook her head, sniffing dryly.

"No, Jute. I need this, to look in their eyes once more and let them know that they have failed in ruining another life." Although faint, Lestrade was certain that he could hear Bairstow swearing from all the way on the Dunraven.

"Then I shall leave you be. Good tidings, my lady." The Yo Heim Captain motioned to a couple of his crew, who too left with their heads bowed. The bridge was now empty, with Gwen Quinn being its only inhabitant. She grinned arrogantly, her hands on her hips like a commander.

"I think you realise by now that I am in command here. Leave at once, boys, or I might have to punish you for your insubordination..." A testy Bairstow growled from his ship.

"Quinn, you have to be an Officer to be in command, traitors don't classify. You disgust me." The Engineer brought her face close to the viewscreen, a sneer planted on her face.

"Sod off, old man. Go crawl back home to Amsterdam, or London, or wherever the hell you're from. As for you, Lestrade? I have to ask: How did someone like you get the Captain's Chair? I've been through your logs Lestrade, every single one." She bore a grin of insanity, like a dictator standing tall above a crowd of cheering onlookers. Drake and Valdez emerged from their chairs, standing alongside their Captain.

"How in Christ's name did you access restricted Medical information?" Drake demanded. She laughed at him, amused by what she saw as stupidity.

"How else, boy? Why do you think I'm on the run in the first place? I've been drawing information from the Federation to trade for years. Some Doctor wack-job got on my number a while back, tracked my transactions to me, and I've been trying to settle ever since. It's hilarious how you Feds go on about being pure of heart, when in reality you're as corrupt and foul as any other being in this vile waste we call life." She looked back at Lestrade, staring deeply at him and refusing to let go.

"Mr. Hargreave, I'd get some counselling if I we-" The transmission was cut off when Lestrade suddenly threw a punch at a console, his teeth bared like a pouncing Lion. Nevertheless, Bairstow continued the argument.

"Enough of your tongue, girl. It is simple: We'll submit our evidence to the Yo Heim government, force you to stand trial, and charge you accordingly. Sadly, that's the system. Thankfully, you don't know how much I'm going to enjoy it." Quinn broke out in a rather throaty chuckle, before simply saying this:

"You're right, I won't." What happened next was faster than anyone anticipated. At first, Gould swivelled around a began to speak. After that, the lead Yo Heim ship that housed Quinn fired a volley of phaser fire straight at the planet. By then it was pretty obvious what Gould was about to say. The Yo Heim ship cut off its thrusters and fell back towards the planet, and with a large "POP" the planet and ships were gone, leaving nothing but rocks and metal flying in multiple directions.

"Asteroids coming our way from multiple vectors, all power to shields!" Valdez called, pulling a speechless Lestrade back to his seat. The buffeting was constant and violent, but Ko'Pei was adamant that the shields would hold, a faint expression of shock plastered on her face.

Yo Heim was gone.

"Well… I didn't see that coming." Gould mumbled, his hands trembling.

X

The view of the Pioneer from the Dunraven's Ready Room was certainly interesting. Lestrade had never realised how majestic his ship could look from the outside, or how intimidating it could be to a frightened race of aliens.

"Sugar?" Bairstow asked, tipping a hefty amount of the white powder into his cup. Lestrade raised his hand in protest, stretching his legs from the sofa.

"Duncan, you don't put sugar in Green Tea, especially mine." Bairstow grinned, before placing the tray on the coffee table and flopping down next to his friend. The two had been discussing and reviewing the days events, in particular the story of Quinn.

"I never thought she could do something like that, a girl like her. Sheffield lass actually, always got her work done quickly." Bairstow said. He sighed, staring into the hypnotising spiral in his tea. "I had high hopes for her… And then this…" His face was grim, a mournful silence filling the air.

"… I wonder what she meant about her transactions? Was she channelling tactical data to the Dominion or something?" Bairstow enquired, the previous sadness in his voice but a memory.

"Makes sense, they'd value anything they could use against us." Lestrade muttered, burying his face in his mug.

"… Bloody hell, how could this happen?" Bairstow growled once more, placing a palm across his face. Lestrade got up to get a refill, his bones creaking.

"Starfleet isn't what it used to be, Duncan. Being a hero isn't what it's cut-out to be anymore: We put our lives on the line, but we don't get anything to reward us. We return home battered and bruised to live our lives just like every other civilian, every other lowlife who contributes little to the greater good." Bairstow interrupted this rant by too rising, and refilling his own mug.

"With a flip of a coin and the pull of a trigger, people can turn just like _that_." Bairstow agreed, clicking his fingers to emphasise the point causing Lestrade to flinch autonomously. That seemed to end their discussion, silence dropping its curtain once more as they sat back down. To be honest Lestrade was surprised: He'd hoped that this visit would be filled with joy and good memories, but instead he was faced with his closest friend losing all of that cheek and bravado he once had, replacing it with pure anger and guilt. Suddenly Bairstow shot a question like a harpoon from a fisherman's handcannon.

"How have your dreams been recently, Wallace?"

"All right, how about yours?" Lestrade answered quickly, wanting to avoid the subject, yet Bairstow pushed on.

"Really? Only my Chief Medical Officer and your own informed me that they'd been getting worse."

"They're not" Lestrade's fists tightened, his legs pressed against one another and his back stood straight.

"You don't have to be so coy, you know I'm here to help. Brothers in Arms, eh?"

"I don't need your help." Lestrade's voice cracked.

"Very well, but why don't you check with Chadwick or Mortis if you-"

"I DON'T need any HELP, Duncan." Lestrade yelled firmly, but a taste of his anger being released from its cage. Bairstow's eyelids lay low, but he backed off calmly.

"Right, I guess we should part ways, something tells me our thrones on our bridges are getting a bit chilly." He rubbed his hands together and got up enthusiastically, a shroud of joy masking his conflicting mind.

"When do you think we'll meet again?" Lestrade said monotonously, joining him as the door to the bridge opened.

"When duty calls, mate. McCullin, bring her round: Captain Dallas on the _Thracian _ asked if he could borrow some of our excess gear. We owe him a favour, co-ordinates onscreen." Bairstow commanded, practically forgetting his friend.

"… I'll be going then." Lestrade said, marching for the turbo lift. Bairstow mounted his seat and raised a hand abstent mindedly in respons, and as Lestrade scanned the many faces on the ship, he finally realised the truth:

These people were Bairstow's friends now. He had been discarded.

That feeling haunted him from the trip to the Transporter Room back to the Pioneer. It was only when Valdez rested her delicate hand on his shoulder as he took up his command chair once more that he understood the bright side.

These people were his friends now, and that was good enough.

X

(A/N): CRIKEY, THAT WAS DELAYED! Terribly sorry, I had around 80% of this done back in November, but I kept on forgetting to finish it off! :P (The Quinn thing was going to be part of an extend storyline, but I discarded that in the end :O)

Join us again next time in "**Flesh and Steel**", where Valdez has to discuss moral values with a wounded soldier!


	9. Flesh and Steel, Part I

**Star Trek: Pioneers**

(A/N) Episode 5, Part 1 lavatories and gems!

Today, a morally conflicted Ensign is met with the advice of the daughter of a certain admiral!

**Flesh and Steel, Part I:**

_Stardate 60055, Planet Cerulean IV, Dusk, light fog._

"Pigeon, how's he holding up?" Sigmund "Aussie" Osbourne yelled, vaulting over rubble and crouching to avoid plasma fire as he reached his squads field medic. Martin "Pigeon" Peckham was doing his best to suture a wounded mans neck, but with most of his equipment either expended or destroyed, the man's demise was inevitable.

"Bleedings stopped, but the internal haemorrhaging is extensive. I'm sorry Aussie, he's out." Peckham grumbled. Osbourne sighed, leaning to the side and unleashing a volley of energy from his rifle.

"Sorry boss, guess the rozzers nicked me." Matthew "Downtown" Hampton struggled to say, scratching at his wounded neck much to the protest of Peckham. Osbourne shielded his face from a burst of dust and rubble: That was a close one.

"Shut up Downtown, we're bugging out of here, all of us! Pigeon, who's out there?" The young medic pulled out a small device and studied its screen, flinching as an explosive detonated nearby.

"Roadblock and Cobweb are down that ridge, close to the rally point. Avarice is up on that cliff-face giving covering sni… Hold on, his heart rate just ceased… They're up there, take cover!" Peckham and Osbourne threw their selves to the ground, beams of energy kicking dirt and debris into the air. Osbourne returned fire with his rifle, as did Peckham with his phaser, forcing the snipers to seek cover.

"Come on, double time it! I'll carry Downto-" It was then that Osbourne noticed that the soldiers face had been blown away by their foes. He and Peckham cursed in unison, before hauling arse down a slope and through a small treeline, eventually finding their selves in a small make-shift trench where their comrades had made shelter.

"Where in god's name is everybody!?" Alice "Cobweb" Weaver cried, tossing a proton grenade like a javelin before throwing herself to the floor to avoid a stray potshot. Peckham studied his device once more before replying solemnly.

"You're looking at them Corporal. They got Akela back at the drop zone. Aussie; it's your call." He tossed the device to Osbourne, who proceeded to study the contents. There were four green dots in a rough square in the centre. Around them were at least thirty red dots representing the enemy. They were sandwiched all right, and Osbourne decided on the one option.

"We're holding fort until evac arrives, Avarice called for gunnery support earlier, I assume they're on their way to our co-ordinat-" He would've finished, but a strange bone-like dart had zipped by and slammed right into the centre of his right eye, the horrid sound of squished organic matter being punctuated by his screaming curses.

"DD's, stay low!" Neil "Roadblock" Rowan growled, firing his rifle over his head wildly to try and discourage the enemy's advance. Peckham knelt at Osbourne's side, his hands already bloodied by his previous patient's liquids. Placing a hand on his chest, he felt around the eye wound nervously.

"It's hooked in; I haven't got my damn gear on me!" Peckham cried, leaning down and staring into Osbourne's single working eye. "Keep looking at me Sigmund! Keep looking at me, okay?"

Suddenly one of the enemy soldiers made himself known, as a towering Jem'Hadar charged screaming his war cry and firing his weapon full-auto. Weaver barely had time to turn around and shout before he had grabbed her neck and raised her high with a single arm. Rowan roared in defiance, pulling out his combat knife and flinging it at the Jem'Hadars skull. He tried to turn and use Weaver as a shield, but the blade was too quick, and it pierced his skull easily. The two fell in a heap, Weavers neck having been snapped like a dried twig.

"I'LL TAKE YOU ALL ON, LIZARDS!" Rowan screamed, bloodlust filling the half-Klingon man. Wrenching the blade out of the fallen alien's head, he charged out of the makeshift trench cackling maniacally, heedless to the protests of Peckham and the barely conscious Osbourne. Barely seconds later, a disruptor slammed in his stomach, and he burst into flames: Only a skeleton remained, which was quickly trampled by the advancing Jem'Hadar. One of them, possibly the group's leader, strolled into the camp and pulled out his blade, a Kar'takin, casually. He hauled Peckham up by the arm and placed the blade to his neck.

"See this human? It will take your life and bring meaning to mine. It shall pierce your throat at its point, and draw your blood." He readied it to claim a kill, only for the light of a Transporter to hit the two humans.

"Kill first, talk later." Peckham grinned as they faded away, reappearing at Transporter Room 1 of the _Pioneer_.

"They're in Captain, all survivors accounted for." Chief Tobias Boone communicated, leaving his console and assisting the wounded duo.

X

_Captain's Log, Stardate 60055.1_

_We've been elected by Starfleet to ferry a compliment of Federation wounded from the war zone to Deep Space 117. I know little of the battle they have fought, and to be honest I care little: Their safety and wellbeing comes first, and I intend to follow my orders and take them to a sanctuary to recuperate._

X

"Akela, Avarice, Cobweb, Roadblock, Downtown, Abbey, Parish, Ghoul, Fairbairn… Everyone's gone." Peckham muttered, his legs dangling childishly over the operating table he was seated on. Chadwick removed the hypo-spray, brushed off the man's shoulder and wordlessly left the trio of Peckham, Lestrade and Valdez to continue work on the unconscious Osbourne.

"They surely are a ruthless bunch of barbarians, aren't they? Damned Dominion…" Lestrade growled. Valdez left to join Chadwick at Osbourne's table, leaving Lestrade and Peckham to discuss the technical and tactical side of the confrontation. Chadwick's face was steady as he surveyed a computer screen containing medical jargon only the trained eye could understand.

"How is he?" She asked, kneeling at the side and leaning in close to observe the cauterised and cleaned eye wound.

"Who, the bloke on the table or the lad in this novel?" Chadwick asked nonchalantly, turning off the computer screen and awkwardly kneeling down next to her.

"Ah, eh… Jeez, pick a more comfortable position next time lady. Anyway, he's fine: He's just left the train, and his date is at the station. As for Osbourne here, his eye is neigh recoverable, though we can easily shove a prosthetic in there for him. Better wake him up, pass me that hypo-spray." Valdez turned around to grab it, only to hear the sound of flesh hitting flesh. She quickly spun around to see Chadwick slapping the man's cheeks, rousing him from his slumber.

"I've always wanted to do that." He grinned. Osbourne opened his eye and surveyed his surroundings, instantly realising where he was and not bothering to ask.

"So then, Aussie. We need to go through all that legal junk, regs you know? I take it you want a cybernetic eye implant? Doesn't cost anything, and it lets you see things in the dark! You've got your thermal vision, night vision, bear vision-" Chadwick's blabbering was quickly silence by Valdez, a raised eyebrow commanding her face.

"Bear Vision?" She inquired. Chadwick pouted, glancing at her.

"Lets you see if someone's a bear." Chadwick said, talking as if this was common knowledge.

"You can't be part bear Chadwick." Valdez chuckled forcefully.

"Herschel's part bear." He replied, motioning to the man seated on an unoccupied table, sipping from a mug of hot chocolate and reading from a PADD. His grumpy face was a notable contrast to Chadwick's eternal grin, something Valdez welcomed. "So was Gregory Strauss, the old Chief Engineer."

"_Gregory _Strauss? I thought he was called _Seth _Strauss." Valdez grumbled, trying to understand the mind of the unstable doctor. Chadwick shook his head in disappointment, tapping his nose.

"That was his _cousin's _name. He used it to avoid hypo-spray administrations when he was in the Academy; said that the stuff gave him indigestion." Chadwick announced, much to the confusion of Valdez. Osbourne spoke up for the first time, his voice startling the two Officers.

"I… Don't want one." He said firmly, glaring at the Chief Medical Officer. He proceeded to stare back, smiling.

"Why, do you think it'll sting? Don't worry, it'll sting like hellfire. Thankfully, I've got the right drugs to put you under first! Well, I think I do..." This threat and his stare would usually send a grown man crying, but Osbourne held on.

"Technology is for weaklings, I don't want a damned prosthetic." He growled. Chadwick's toothy grin changed into a lipped smile, his hand rising to cup the man's cheek.

"That technology is what's keeping you breathing and comfortable right now. You were using that technology when you failed to save your friends. Rest assured, if you don't take a prosthetic you'll lose your commission, standard Starfleet policy for Hazard Teams." His sing-song words were coated in vile venom, and Osbourne was visibly beginning to feel the effect. He batted away Chadwick's hand and continued.

"Labour conquers all." He said, before swinging his head to the side and looking away. Chadwick raised his arms and stood up.

"Woah-hoh-hoh! That's how a little kid wins an argument!" He laughed. Valdez shot him a glare, walking around the table and crouching once more to look Osbourne in the eye.

"Sigmund, you're a Manualist aren't you?" She said softly. Chadwick walked off to talk to Herschel, visibly ticked off but still smiling maniacally as usual, like a school teacher who wants to be friends with his students.

"We have our rights." Osbourne grumbled, glaring at the Second Officer with the intent to wound. He was judging her, something she didn't like.

"I didn't say anything about your rights, I was asking a question. Are you a Manualist?"

"Yes, of course." He scoffed, closing his eye and feigning sleep.

"I understand the lifestyle; I had a friend back in Lisbon who was a Manualist, strong girl physically and mentally. You remind me of her actually." Valdez stated, leaning closer to get his attention.

"What, am I a woman in your eyes?" Osbourne asked, his eye still sealed. Valdez laughed, doing her best to be friendly.

"Heavens no. She lost her leg in an accident. She didn't want a prosthetic, and… She always wanted to be a footballer, but it ruined her dream." She sighed. "Damn shame if you ask me."

Osbourne didn't reply. It was a lost cause, and Valdez knew it. With a pat of his shoulder and a mouthing of the phrase "Think about it", she left for her quarters.

X

"If you ask me, he's just following his beliefs. Why would Starfleet regs kick him out for having one eye? There're countless Cyclops's in the fleet." Drake argued. Valdez had found him in the mess cradling a glass of cold orange juice in his rough white hands. She leant back in her chair, her stressed back whining silently in protest.

"Blindness. Have you ever tried fighting a battle with one eye?" She remarked.

"Have I tried fighting a battle?" He replied. "I tried playing darts with an eye closed once, winded up slamming one into my mate's arm."  
"Was he all right?" Valdez questioned, visibly tensing.  
"His right hook certainly was." Drake groaned, rubbing his shoulder.

"Want anything?" Valdez asked, rising from her seat to grab some refreshments from a nearby Replicator. Drake shook his head, but thanked her for the offer. As she ordered a drink from the machine, she couldn't help but ask herself why she hung around Drake so much. For some strange reason she felt a strange sense of comfort near the long-legged, scruffy man. He was her superior officer, yet she shared equal ground with him. To say the truth they both agreed she was better qualified to be the First Officer out of the two.

They secretly agreed she'd probably be a better Captain than Lestrade too.

And to be honest, he'd probably agree. He was conscripted after all, according to ship rumours.

"Do you mind ordering me a sarnie, Commander? I haven't eaten anything since before the skirmish!" Peckham asked, suddenly emerging at her side. He'd been at Sickbay ever since he arrived, and this was the first time he'd moved from there. Valdez complied and relayed his request.

"What'cha doing wandering around the ship, Peckham? I thought you were staying with Osbourne." She casually asked, trying to start a conversation awkwardly.

"Meh, spending too much time with Aussie tends to end badly. Besides, he needs some sleep to come to terms with today's events." He replied. Valdez handed him a rather empty looking plate with a small sandwich perched on top, which he took with a grin. "He's a great guy, but if you ask me he's got the mind of a teenager."

"What do you mean?" Valdez asked, suddenly interested. Drake looked like he was drifting into a slumber of his own, so she didn't feel bad in excusing herself. Peckham messily took a seat at a nearby table with her, draping his leg on the surface and holding the plate in his hand.

"Indecisive, nervous, stubborn... He was never into the Manualist movement, total bollocks if you ask me." He took a large chunk of the sandwich out in one chomp, crumbs landing on his chest unevenly. "That's good."

"So what's stopping him from getting the implant?" Valdez questioned. Peckham raised an eyebrow in confusion, as if she'd just asked him why it was a good idea for humans to breathe.

"It'd bloody hurt! Kids don't like foreign things do they?" Peckham said. "His dad was one of those nutjobs who felt like he needed to prove himself through Manualism, he uses that as an excuse to get out from situations that involve the things he fears!"

Peckham finished his meal and brushed the remains from his torso. Hauling himself up, he tossed the plate back into the Replicator, and it faded away in seconds.

"He should go through with it, but if he's afraid he should be able to object. I'd hate to see him go though: He was a great shot." He sighed morosely, as if morning the dead, before suddenly perking up. "Cheerio!"

Drake was snoring loudly now, hugging his drink close. With a sigh Valdez left for the bridge, hoping for it to be devoid of any of the Senior Staff.

It was then that she felt a strange sensation in the back of her neck, one of worry and anxiety. The only other time in her life that she felt this sensation was when her brother threw her shoes down the end of the back garden during a snow storm, and she had to tip-toe barefooted in the 6-inch snow to try and retrieve them.

"Computer, locate Commander Arthur Chadwick." She said, looking around for the closest computer panel.

"Commander Chadwick is currently in the Sickbay." It replied. _Of course, that's his post, but something's off._

"Very well, locate Albert Herschel and Sigmund Osbourne also." She continued, tapping onto a panel and trying to gain access to the Sickbay cams.

"Sigmund Osbourne is currently in the Sickbay. Albert Herschel is currently in his quarters." It answered. That was wrong: Chadwick would often stay in Sickbay even when it wasn't his shift, but Valdez knew Herschel and he would never skip his own shifts unless his superior told him to. _Something's up_.

A couple more taps and she was relayed through to the cams. The sickbay was devoid of life save for the man restrained on the table, and the ginger doctor looming over him. He had his tray of tools to his side, as well as a rather vicious looking device which was enveloped by his right hand. His left held Osbourne's chest down, the patient's arms wiggling in a vain attempt to escape his mad clutches.

Valdez was already running to stop him when the image appeared on screen.

X

(A/N) FINALLY I FINISHED THIS UP.

I've had this chapter sitting on my computer since November-ish! xD

Tune in next time for Part 2, where the out-of-line Doc is confronted by Valdez!


End file.
